


under the willow

by glamouroki, milkywaykaashi



Series: sunaosa hunger games [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crying, Dystopia, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Survival, Tags May Change, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamouroki/pseuds/glamouroki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkywaykaashi/pseuds/milkywaykaashi
Summary: Star-crossed lovers. That's what everyone thinks they are, so they must act like it.Months have passed since the 74th Hunger Games, now the time has come for Osamu and Suna to embark on their Victory Tour. But with things rather icy between him and his longtime friend as well as the approaching Quarter Quell, which will hold god knows what kind of twist, will Osamu be able to return to his district safely yet again?
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Haiba Alisa, Kita Shinsuke & Ojiro Aran, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: sunaosa hunger games [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993111
Comments: 69
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back everybody! you didn't think we'd let you wait THAT long right??  
> this book is where the fun begins so buckle up and grab your tissues! ;)

The breeze is cold as it brushes against Osamu's skin, cold enough for his breaths to be visible as a cloud of mist at every exhale he let out. It has been months since the last Hunger Games ended with him and Suna as its victors, and many things have changed since then.

The sound of twigs snapping makes him spin around, aiming his arrow at his brother who immediately brings his hands up in a defensive position, taken aback by Osamu's reaction as much as the other is spooked by him.

"Whoa, whoa," he breaths out. "Easy."

The other twin sighs, shoulders slumping in relief as he lowers his bow. Atsumu slowly makes his way over to him, giving him a concerned look as he watches Osamu try to compose himself as quickly as he could. However, he knows that his brother wouldn't like him mentioning it, so he brushes it off.

"I saw some turkeys on the way here," he hums, placing his hand on his hip. "Crossed right in front of me like I wasn't even there."

Osamu smiles weakly, "How rude of them."

Atsumu scoffs, rolling his eyes, "That's what happens, ya spend six days a week working in the mines and stupid birds start to think they own these woods."

That earns a quiet chuckle from his brother, which makes a smile grow on his lips. "When's the tour leaving?" he asks, raising a brow.

"Couple hours," Osamu answers softly.

Atsumu smirks, nodding behind him, "Then let's go."

For the rest of their hunting trip, Osamu's mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of his Victory Tour which is set to take place soon. Kita has reminded him about it countless times, yet even when Alisa told him it's something meant to be filled with celebrations, smiles and laughter, Osamu is still feeling less than enthusiastic about it.

Maybe, he thinks to himself as he fiddles with the trap wire, it's because of what happened between him and Suna. Or maybe, it's just because he has to return to the Capitol and celebrate something which had costed the lives of so many.

Atsumu watches him from behind, a frown tugging on his lips. Although he and Suna have returned back home safe and sound, something about them definitely... changed. He's still the brother he loves, but Osamu seems different.

After what had happened with Suna, he couldn't help but wonder how he's doing in terms of mental health, even if he has an idea of the answer already. To think that things would get better after Osamu returned, a part of him worries if things might have gotten a tad bit worse.

Yet he still couldn't help but want things to revert to the way they were, as impossible as it seems. Osamu is not the boy he once was, not anymore. He'd witness countless horrifying things in the arena, from the death of that little girl to the sacrifice of Semi.

They trek through the forest in search of the flock of turkeys, until they finally find them by the river.

Osamu quickly moves forward, crouching behind two large boulders before they could've spotted them and run off. Atsumu trails after him quietly, letting him take the lead in hopes of him being able to get his mind off his worries.

His brother takes out an arrow and nocks it, aiming it for one of the turkeys a little farther from its group. He steadies his hands, and lets it fly.

Osamu gasps when the arrow suddenly flies into Hana's chest, the tribute falling in front of him as her knife falls from her hands. He stumbles back, dropping his bow and bumping into Atsumu who immediately catches him.

His chest constricts, making it hard for him to breathe all of a sudden. His twin's voice is muffled in his ears, even if he's screaming his lungs out at that very moment. Clutching onto his chest, Osamu struggles to get his breathing under control, since taking a breath seems to have required double the effort than usual.

"Osamu, Osamu!" Atsumu shouts, grabbing his face. "Yer okay, yer safe!"

He coughs, finally able to take a deep gulp of air. Atsumu doesn't let him look elsewhere, keeping his face in place as he helps Osamu ride out the rest of his attack, murmuring quiet encouragements and soothing words.

"Yer with me..." he trails off, and Osamu inhales shakily.

Atsumu's right. He isn't in the arena with him anymore. He's with him, on a hunting trip in the forests surrounding their district. The last Games have ended months ago. He's safe, he's home.

But why does he find that hard to believe?

It takes a couple of moments before his heart settles down and his breaths even out, but Atsumu is with him every step of the way, becoming his anchor of sorts.

"Ya alright now?" his brother asks, and he nods. "Good, I think that's enough huntin' for today."

Atsumu stands up, picking up his bow. Osamu swallows the lump in his throat, before rising to his feet as well. He follows his twin out of the forest after hiding their bows at their usual place, sneaking back into their district through their broken wire gates.

When they reach back, it seems as though everyone is just heading out for the mines. He glances at the group of people mostly made up of adults who are way beyond the Reaping age, carrying buckets and adorning hard caps.

"Ya think yer gonna be okay?" Atsumu asks him when they stand between a decrepit old house, away from the ears of other people. "That was—"

"I'll be fine," Osamu cuts him off, rubbing his arm. "I'll be fine." he repeats slowly. 

His brother scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "Sounds like yer tryin' to convince yerself more than me."

Osamu presses his lips into a thin line, averting his eyes from Atsumu with a guilty look in them. He could never hide anything from his brother. They've been together since the day they were born, and it's hard to keep secrets from someone whom you've known for so long.

Atsumu sighs, his eyes softening, concern finally peeking through, "I'm worried, 'Samu. Not just for you, but for Sunarin too."

The look on Osamu's face sours a little, and Atsumu knows he must've hit a sore spot mentioning Suna. Their relationship... hasn't been the best lately.

"I know what ya did durin' the arena was just an act but... be a little considerate to Sunarin, will ya?" he murmurs. "He pushed aside his true feelings for so long so that the two of ya could survive."

Osamu looks back at him, a conflicted look flashing in his eyes. Atsumu doesn't let him speak, holding a hand up, "But I know it isn't entirely yer fault either, Sunarin distanced himself without tellin' why and suddenly he dropped a bombshell on ya. But 'Samu, was it really that hard to know that he liked ya?"

Osamu falls silent after that, becoming seemingly deep in thought. The pinch between his brows remain until he reaches his home in Victor's Village. While Atsumu heads for their house, he decides to stop by Kita's house first.

Knocking on the door, he calls out for his mentor, "Kita-san!"

"Come in."

He opens the door, instantly greeted with a warm gust of air from inside. He steps in, letting the door close behind him before heading into the living room, then spots Kita sitting at his dining table, a cup of steaming hot tea placed in front of him.

The older man doesn't spare him so much as a glance, "It's common courtesy for taking off boots before stepping into another's house."

"Glad to see yer sober enough to notice it," he snarks.

"Well he has been sober for many months now," a familiar snarky voice makes him freeze momentarily.

Osamu looks over his shoulder, meeting eyes with Suna leaning against the arch connecting Kita's living room and his dining room. Though there's a smirk present on his lips, Osamu wonders whether or not it's real or fake.

"... Rintarou," he greets him with a nod, not knowing what else there is to say after having not seen him for a week or two, which is the longest time they've been separated.

Suna's smirk falls a little, sadness flashing in his eyes, "Osamu."

Kita blankly glances between them before looking down at his teacup, "Would either of you like a cup of tea to warm yourselves up?"

Osamu makes a face at him, before shaking his head, "No thanks, I was just stoppin' by for a moment."

Suna walks forward, setting down some loaves of bread on the table, "Here's your bread, Kita-san."

Their mentor hums, sipping his tea. Just as Osamu heads for the back door, he speaks up again, "Don't forget, the cameras are coming within an hour."

The boy sighs, "Yes, Kita-san."

Suna's eyes linger on him until he disappears into the kitchen, only looking away upon hearing a door shutting. He tries to ignore Kita's sharp gaze on him, bidding him goodbye before returning to his own house as well.

"I'm home," Osamu announces, shutting the door behind him.

Nene runs out from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a towel and giving him a smile that seems... a little off. "Did you have a good walk, 'Samu-nii?" she chirps, Atsumu appearing behind her with a grim face.

Osamu raises a brow, placing his boots on the shoe rack, "Walk? I was just out—"

"We have visitors," Atsumu cuts him off just as two men emerge from the kitchen, adorning black from head to toe. He doesn't need to be told who they are for him to know they're from the Capitol.

"Miya-san," one of them greets him, gesturing towards the office with a gloved hand. "This way please."

Osamu lets them lead him to his office, though he couldn't help the look of distrust plastered onto his face. Something tells him that whoever this visitor of his is wouldn't be someone pleasant.

And he was right.

His breath catches in his throat when he sees the president of the Capitol standing behind the desk a few feet away from him. His bodyguards close the doors behind him, but Osamu's eyes are still glued to the president's figure.

The man looks up, meeting his gaze and causing him to flinch. He sets down his teacup, averting his eyes back to the projected screen, "Such bravery, such spirit, such—"

He turns the screen so that it faces him, showing Osamu whatever it is displayed on it. He watches, wide-eyed, as a clip of him handing the berries over to Suna while they were still in the arena plays on the screen.

 _"—contempt,"_ President Hinata finishes.

Osamu inhales quietly, forcing himself to relax, "... President Hinata, what an honor."

"My boy, I think we can make this so much simpler if we agree not to lie to each other," he proposes. "What do you think?"

Clenching his fists, the black-haired boy nods, "Yes, I think that would save time."

President Hinata gestures to the chair, "Sit down, please."

Osamu complies, sitting down in the chair without any visible protests despite his brain practically screaming at him to run away. He looks up at the president, awaiting his next words anxiously.

The older man turns off the screen, before letting his eyes move back to him. Folding his hands on the desk, he leans forward a little, "I have a problem, Miya-kun. A problem that began the moment you revealed those poison berries in the arena."

"If the Head Gamemaker, Hasegawa Ryusei, had had any brains at all," he says lowly, his eyes slightly narrowing. "He would've blown you to bits, then and there."

The hairs on Osamu's nape stands erect at his words, his blood running cold at that exact moment.

President Hinata leans back, "But here you are, and I expect you can guess where he is."

"Yes, I think so," Osamu answers, somehow able to keep his voice steady.

"And after that fiasco there was nothing else left to do but to let you play out your little scenario," he pauses, letting an unnerving smile curve his lips. "And you were very good. That whole love-crazed besotted school girl routine, impressive. Truly. You've convinced the people in the Capitol, but unfortunately not everyone in the districts fell for it."

The president regards him with a pointed look, "People viewed your little trick with the berries as an act of defiance, not as an act of love— and if a boy from District 12 of all places can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to prevent them from doing the same? What is to prevent, say... an uprising?"

Cold sweat runs down Osamu's neck, the boy dreading every second the president continues to hold his gaze. The older man continues to speak, seemingly yet to notice his internal panic, "That can lead to revolution. And then in a fraction of time, the whole system collapses."

"It must be a fragile system if it can be brought down by just a few berries," Osamu remarks.

He nods, "Yes, it is indeed. But not in the way you imagine it."

"How should I imagine it?" Osamu questions.

President Hinata narrows his eyes, "You should imagine thousands upon thousands of your people dead, this town of yours reduced to ashes. Imagine it _gone._ Made radioactive and buried under dirt as if it had never existed. Just like what happened to District 13."

Osamu subtly tenses, his nails digging into his thighs upon hearing the president's words which are most definitely a threat, a threat that could come true if Osamu is to take another step out of line.

"You've fought very hard in the Games, Miya-kun," the president hums. "But they were simply games. Would you like to be in a real war?"

"No," Osamu breathes out hastily. "No, I don't."

Seemingly satisfied, President Hinata leans back in his chair, grinning, "Good. Neither would I."

He picks up a biscuit, turning it in his hand before dipping it into his tea, "Did your sister make these?"

The boy glances at the treats, inhaling quietly, "Yes."

A smile grows on the president's lips at the mention of Nene, a smile less than friendly and more... menacing. It doesn't sit well with Osamu how his face immediately changes when his sister is brought up.

"What a lovely girl," the older man chuckles. "She's like a gem. Beautiful and small."

Osamu nods, feigning a smile, "She took after our mother."

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, his smile growing wider. "Your mother must've been very beautiful."

Osamu is just about ready to end this conversation right here when the president's eyes lit up, his smile growing wider. "Oh, what about Suna-kun?"

The boy's breath hitches in his throat, eyes widening slightly. President Hinata leans in, grinning impishly, "Tell me, at what point did he realize everything you did in the arena was fake? When did he realize you were indifferent—"

Osamu narrowed his eyes, "I'm not indifferent—"

"Don't lie!" the president snaps, causing him to freeze in his seat. "You promised."

He keeps quiet, staring into his eyes with an exhausted look, "... Why don't you just kill me now?"

The older man smiles tersely, before his face reverts back to the same serious look he always wore. "I don't want to kill you. I want us to be friends," he says casually as if that's the most normal thing ever.

Anger flares in Osamu's chest, his grip on his pant leg tightening. _But I don't,_ he wants to say, but he knows the second those words leave his mouth, his bodyguards might just barge into the room to drag him out to the plaza and execute him publicly.

"But if not friends then allies," he adds, and Osamu takes in a deep breath.

"What do I need to do?" he's desperate, he's tired. He just wants all of this to end, he's willing to do anything now, even to go so far as to become the president's friend, his ally. Just for some well-deserved peace. 

"When you and Suna-kun are on tour, you need to smile, you need to be grateful," he begins. "But above all, you need to be madly, prepared-to-end-it-all in love. Think you can manage that?"

Osamu nods, albeit weakly, "Yes."

President Hinata raises a brow, "Yes what?"

"... I'll convince them."

"No," the president shakes his head. "Convince _me._ "

A grin curves his lips as he reaches into his lapel to pull out a white rose, setting it on the desk, in front of Osamu, "For you, Miya-kun."

It's beautiful and perfectly grown. The white petals match the snowy scenery outside. Osamu would've loved to plant them if he hadn't known the president does too.

The older man stands up, pushing a button before looking at him again, his gaze sharp, "Do convince me."

"— _I've known since day one, 'Samu. You only saw me as a friend, nothing else, nothing more! So don't you dare call me selfish for wanting to distance myself from you!_ "

Suna's hurt face shows up on the projected screen, causing him to stiffen. This was their fight from over a few weeks ago. How did he get this? No, _how_ did he know of this? Had he been watching during the entire thing?

"For the sake of your loved ones," the president says, his words sending shivers down Osamu's spine. His footsteps echo in the room as he makes his way towards the open doors, which shut loudly after his exit, leaving Osamu to be alone with his thoughts.

|———|

A couple minutes later, Alisa walks onto the compound of Victor's Village, a bright smile on her lips as she spreads her hands out, nearly slapping Aran in the face if the man hadn't evaded her.

"Stop!" she shouts, earning a raised brow from Aran. "Take it all in, this is sacred ground. History was made here."

Aran sighs, "Yes, yes. I get it, but can we proceed now? We don't have much time."

They walk forward, stepping onto Osamu's doorstep before knocking on it. Not even a second after, the door opens, revealing Osamu's face. He isn't given a moment to speak when she immediately engulfes him in a hug.

"Oh, Osamu dear, it's been so long!" she pulls away to hold his face, slightly squishing his cheeks.

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, "Actually, you've got the wrong twin."

Aran stifles a chuckle while Alisa's brows jump up, pink dusting her cheeks in embarrassment, "O-Oh, then you're Atsumu? Gosh, my mistake! It's so hard to tell, the two of you look so similar!"

Atsumu gives her a small smile, "We get that a lot, no worries."

Finally, the man of the hour walks out from the hallway, catching Alisa's attention. "Oh, there he is, my greatest triumph!" she squeals, hugging him dearly. "Sweetie, we've missed you so much!"

Osamu laughs quietly, hugging her back, "I've missed ya too, Alisa."

"You have such a cute house, so quaint!" she chirps, then perks up. "Oh, of course you've heard about Aran."

Concern colors his features, his brows knitting together in confusion, "What happened to Aran?"

Alisa sighs, patting his shoulder, "Oh, dear. He's a fashion star, you're his muse. Everyone in the Capitol is wearing him, everyone!"

"Well, not everyone," the man in question interjects with a soft chuckle. Osamu rushes forward to hug him, wrapping his arms around his torso and sighing his name in relief.

"'Samu-nii?" Nene's quiet voice catches everyone's attention, making them all turn their heads to look at the girl standing in the hallway with a cat cradled in her arms, Atsumu somewhere behind her, silently watching.

Alisa lets out a delighted giggle, "Osamu, is this your sister?"

He nods, and she walks forward, approaching the young girl with a coo. Nene smiles at her, albeit shyly, as she compliments everything about her while he and Aran share a conversation.

"Are you okay?" Aran questions, staring at him with a look of concern, as if he's able to tell Osamu had an internal conflict going on inside his head after the president's abrupt and rude visit earlier.

He forces his worries away, nodding his head, "Yeah."

Aran smiles, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly, "Ready to work?"

Osamu sighs, "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Alright, good," he gives him one last pat on the shoulder before leading him somewhere else.

Music blares along with the sound effect of applause as Lev makes his entrance onto the stage, his talkshow host grin present on his lips as always. "Welcome, welcome!" he announces, directing his smile to the camera rolling in front of him.

"Last year the 74th Hunger Games brought us the greatest love story of our time," he recaps, the photographed picture of Osamu and Suna appearing behind him. "Two brave young people, against all odds chose to die, rather than to lose each other."

"As a nation, we shared their agony. But we had so little time to revel in their joy," Alisa gasps at her brother on the screen, turning to face Osamu who stands behind her, adjusting his coat. "Well, today—"

"It's time," her voice cuts his off, moving to push a lock of his hair behind his ear. "It's done, he's lovely. We must feed the monster."

She leads him to the door, her smile never leaving her lips. "You're excited, you're in love. Big smiles for the camera in three, two, one."

Feigning a smile comes easy to him now after having done it for the cameras countless times before this. He gets greeted with the wintry breeze as he steps out of his house, spotting the odd contraption set up right in front of his house.

 _"There he is, Miya Osamu!"_ Lev's voice comes from it, and he puts on his best fake smile. _"The Messenger of Inari!"_

The door to Suna's house opens, and he steps out, causing the camera to quickly pan to him. _"And there he is, Suna Rintarou! The Capitol's Heartthrob!"_ He flashes it a stoic look, but a smile quickly overtakes his features.

They walk forward, meeting in the middle in a hug which goes wrong when Suna slips on the slippery, snowy path, accidentally bringing Osamu down with him. Suna lands on the ground first while Osamu falls onto his chest.

"Oh, oops. Trouble in paradise," Lev chuckles, the camera spinning between them.

Osamu's smile remains, laughing along with him as he keeps his eyes on Suna. He glances down at his lips, before leaning in to capture them in a kiss. Suna stills for a moment, having been caught off by the kiss, but he soon melts into it.

Lev clears his throat, not even trying to hide his amusement, "Ahem, is anyone at home? Should we come back later?"

Osamu looks up, flashing a sheepish smile at the camera as he gets off his lover. "Sorry, Haiba-san," he says with a chuckle, helping Suna up before sticking close to his side.

"No, please, it's alright. It's your day," the other laughs. "So, how's it going?"

Suna nods, giving a close-lipped smile, "We're good."

It falls silent for a brief moment, before Lev speaks up again, baffled, "That's it? That's all we get? We're good? Why're you so taciturn all of a sudden, Suna-kun! Give us some details!"

Osamu glances at him, watching as Suna looks down, seemingly at a loss of words. If this keeps up, he's going to have to take over before things get awkward. 

"Yeah, things are... uh, things are great here in 12," he hums.

"Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol, we've never been closer," Osamu chimes in.

Suna blinks, huffing, "Yeah, 25 yards, to be exact."

That elicits a hearty laugh from the host, "Fantastic! We'll be checking in with both of you, throughout the Victory Tour. Thank you so much, Miya Osamu and Suna Rintarou!"

As soon as the cameras stop rolling, Alisa's voice booms in the air, "Wonderful! Everybody in motion, we are out of here in ten!"

Suna turns to face Osamu, lips pursed, "That was some nice acting."

"You too," Osamu murmurs, feeling slightly awkward.

Golden-like eyes meet his, and he gulps, feeling an ache in his heart. "Almost thought that kiss was real," he says quietly, giving him a curt nod before walking away, heading back to his house.

"Come along children, we are on a schedule, the train awaits!" Alisa's words remind him that he hasn't a lot of time, and so he takes a deep breath, walking over to his own house too.

He later finds himself sitting in one of the lush chairs on the train, on his way to District 11, Yachi's district. He's silent in his seat next to Aran, staring off into blank space while Alisa's rambling falls on deaf ears.

"Fabulous food, fabulous wine, massages, spa treatments!" Alisa sighs, picking out a few cakes while Kita intermittently drinks his drink. "I told them nothing but the best for my two victors, it all needs to be—"

"Fabulous?" Kita raises a brow, setting his glass down on the table.

Their escort nods, grinning brightly, "Exactly."

"Now, the schedule is a bit of a bear," she hums, sitting down on the seat next to Suna. "Twelve days, twelve districts but it's mostly parties, celebrations, adoring fans to greet you at every stop along the way and then we wrap it up in the Capitol."

Osamu stays silent, not bothering to speak up. Suna, too, is the same. Only staring down at his food with an unreadable gaze.

Alisa makes a face at them, but only for a second, "All you need to do is give a few speeches, wave at the crowds and enjoy your time in the spotlight, you've earned it."

Osamu snaps out of his daze, directing his gaze at Alisa. "What did ya say?" he furrows his brows incredulously. 

Suna frowns, already sensing the impending trouble, "Osamu—"

"I said, enjoy it, Osamu. You've earned it," their escort repeats herself.

The boy scowls, "By killing people."

He stands up, getting out of his seat and marching out of the room. Suna only stares at him with a wistful gaze until he goes out of his sight, disappearing behind the metal door.

Osamu stops in front of the control for a brief moment, able to catch a glimpse of the monitor before the peacekeeper in charge notices him and presses a button to make the door shut in his face.

With nothing else to do, he walks out of the room, letting the door close behind him swiftly, finding himself in the last car like the first time he was here.

He walks forward, sitting down on the couch next to the huge window to watch the scenery go by. Taking out the same Mockingjay pin his brother gave him, he starts to fiddle with it yet again, hoping to relieve some of his stress as doing this usually provides for him.

It reminds him of what he did on the first night he spent here as he was on the way to the Capitol. Though, he's sure he would be able to sleep just fine on their mattresses now. Something else often keeps him up at night nowadays.

The sound of the door opening makes him sigh, "I'm really not in the mood for a lecture, I'll apologize to Alisa later."

When he receives no response, he looks over his shoulder, his eyes locking with a pair of familiar golden ones. He gives him a surprised look, "I thought ya were Kita-san."

"You don't have to apologize to anyone," Suna says, taking a seat next to him. "Including me."

Osamu furrows his brows, "I'm sure if there's anyone I owe an apology to, it's you."

"No," Suna shakes his head. "It wasn't your fault, your reaction was justified—"

"What was justified, Rintarou?!" the other snaps, staring into his eyes with a guilty look. "I hurt you, I called ya selfish when all ya wanted to do was sort out yer feelings, I—"

Suddenly, warm hands are on his cheeks, causing his words to die down in his throat as his eyes find themselves locked to Suna's golden hues again. His gaze softens, lips quivering, "I-I'm sorry, Rin..."

"I already told you, 'Samu," his heart jumps at the return of his nickname. Suna gives him a weak grin, pressing their foreheads together as he chuckles. "You don't need to apologize."

"I distanced myself from you all of a sudden after we promised we'd never leave each other's side," he pauses, inhaling sharply. "Of course you'd be mad, then I dropped a bombshell on you without giving a warning at all, after days of avoiding you. Both of our emotions were everywhere."

"We were both only thinking about ourselves," Osamu breathed out, sniffling quietly. "I don't blame ya for that, ya should worry about yerself first before anybody else."

"You don't, but I do," Suna frowns, reaching out to wipe away the tears that have escaped his eyes. "I made you a promise, Osamu. And I nearly broke it."

The other boy gives him a disapproving look, "Rin—"

"I know, I'll stop sooner or later," he sighs. "But let me hold onto my regrets for a little while longer to remind myself not to repeat this mistake."

Osamu stares at him, at a loss for words. Then, he lets out a soft chuckle, "Yer insufferable."

As Suna's face splits into a grin, they go through a tunnel. The smile on Osamu's lips fall when he catches something in the corner of his eye, a red logo that looks distinctly like his Mockingjay pin. But it disappears in a flash, leaving him to wonder if it was just a mind trick.

"Did ya see that?" he murmurs, getting up from his seat to approach the corner.

Suna raises a brow, looking behind him, "What?"

His eyes gradually grow wider after their train exits the tunnel, shock coloring his face little by little, "Whoa..."

Standing side-by-side, the two peer out the window and at the military cars trailing after their train at the sides. The whole scenery suddenly looks... dull. The clouds have lost color and although there are fields of wheat around them, their golden color is nowhere to be seen.

They've arrived in District 11.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone!!

Alisa steps off the train, only to be greeted by rows and rows of Peacekeepers, much to her confusion. She'd expected balloons and confetti, but it turns out to be men in white armed with dangerous guns. Kita trails after her, a pit of unease growing in his stomach upon sighting them. _Something doesn't feel right._

Osamu frowns, eyebrows knitting together in worry. He'd heard about what had happened here in District 11, but he never expected it to be so... heavily guarded now.

"Well, I never," their escort huffs, clearly unhappy at the gloomy atmosphere. "This isn't very festive!"

They're led to a car set to take them to the plaza, where he and Suna are supposed to give their speeches. During the ride, he couldn't help but feel a little on edge, occasionally stealing glances at the Peacekeepers accompanying them.

"The mayor will make some introductory remarks and then you just have to say a few words," she goes through the cards in her hands, smiling tightly. "It's customary of course to give a brief eulogy to the district's fallen tributes. For District 11, that's... Tsukishima Kei and Yachi Hitoka."

Osamu tenses at the mention of Yachi's name, his breath catching in his throat for a split second. His eyes glaze over with a horrified look when memories of her last moments replay in his mind, as if it had just been yesterday when she'd passed away.

He barely registers Alisa holding out the cards to him when Suna grabs them instead. He turns to Osamu, offering him a small smile, "I can do the talking, if you want."

"Thank you," Osamu whispers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Miya Osamu and Suna Rintarou."

Osamu takes in a deep breath, putting on a smile when the doors start to open. The sound of applause greets his ears, along with the winter air as he gets ushered out alongside Suna by Alisa.

"Smile, smile, smile, stand up straight, you're on camera," Alisa's voice is hushed as she pushes them out, then moving to stand with Kita and Aran somewhere else as they walk onto the stage.

He looks over the sea of people, freezing when his eyes land on a woman standing on an elevated platform, Yachi's face displayed on the screen behind her. While Yachi looked rather timid, the seemingly older woman with long, peach-brown hair wears a stoic face. Her dark eyes burn into Osamu's, and he easily recognizes who she is.

Somewhere to the side, Tsukishima's family stands on the other platform, the tribute's indifferent face staring back at him on the screen. He sees a woman, her face kind, gentle and young despite the fine lines, whom he assumes is Tsukishima's mother. Standing alongside her is a boy no older than him, who might be Tsukishima's brother.

"Thank you," Suna begins, smiling at the crowd while Osamu continues to stare at Yachi's mother, his smile slowly faltering. "We're honored, to be here with you today. And to be with the family of your fallen tributes."

Suna pauses, biting his cheek as he stares down at the people in the crowd, before glancing at his cards. Making a last minute decision in his mind, he puts them down, opting to speak from his heart instead rather than recite what had already been planned.

Alisa might be scolding him right now, but he doesn't care.

"Though they fought, and live with honor and dignity until the end," he lets his smile fall. "Both Tsukishima and Yachi were so young."

Osamu clenches his fists, watching as a hushed and somber silence overtake the previous one, as if everyone is collectively mourning their tributes at that very moment.

"But our lives aren't just measured in years," Suna continues, earning a surprised glance from Osamu. "They're measured in the lives of people we touch around us, for myself, for Osamu."

He turns his head, meeting Osamu's teary, yet grateful gaze. Even if there are hundreds of people watching him at that moment, Suna still weaves his hand together with Osamu's, giving him a comforting squeeze.

He averts his gaze back to the crowd, "We know that without Yachi and Tsukishima, we wouldn't be standing here today."

"So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we'd like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the tributes, every year for the rest of our lives."

Kita's eyes widen, "Suna-kun..."

"Can he... Can he do that?" Aran questions him, brows knitting together in confusion as Suna's words are met with applause.

Tightening his grip on his arms, Kita bites his lower lip as he shook his head, "He can't, but he just did."

The escort lets out an unhappy huff, "Why doesn't he just stick to the cards?"

"Thank you," Suna ends his speech, giving one last smile to the crowd, to Tsukishima and Yachi's families, before turning around to head back inside.

Osamu takes a few steps backward and halts. Keeping his eyes on Yachi's mother, he hesitantly approaches the microphone stand, finally deciding to say something.

Glancing at Tsukishima's family, he speaks, "I just wanted to say that... I didn't know Tsukishima. I never spoke to him, but Rintarou did. He could've killed him but instead, he showed him mercy. That's a debt I'll never be able to replay."

His eyes move back to Yachi's mom, "... I did know Yachi."

She presses her lips into a firm line, as if trying to keep herself from crying when her eyes glaze over with tears.

"She wasn't just my ally, she was my friend," he pauses, trying to keep his voice steady. "I see her, in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her, in a Mockingjay song. I see her, in my sister Nene."

Madoka hangs her head, silently letting her tears fall as she stands all alone on the wooden platform, having lost her daughter recently, and her husband all those years ago. Call her a bad mother, but she'd known for a long time that if Hitoka were to be chosen for the Hunger Games, she wouldn't win.

She'd tried to prepare her if such a day ever comes, but her daughter was far too terrified of the world, of the littlest things. She'd shriek at bugs and cry the moment she received a wound, be it a cut or a skinned knee.

Many other victors have called Hitoka weak, fragile, pathetic. She remembers all the pitying and disapproving looks given to her when Hitoka had come with her to the events at the Capitol.

Maybe it was her fault, why Hitoka was so kind, so gentle. She'd refused to send her to the academy, knowing the traumatizing events her daughter might witness since she had experienced them firsthand herself.

To Hitoka, she was her mother. And a mother's job is not to whip her child into shape for some deadly tournament, but to love and nurture them, to watch them grow, to watch them be happy.

Hitoka's life might've been short, but she knows, from all the time she spent with her, she was happy and cheerful.

Osamu swallows the urge to sob, letting out a shaky breath, "She was too young, too gentle. A-And I couldn't save her, I'm sorry."

A boy with a stoic face and short brown hair in the crowd presses three fingers to his lips before raising his arm, whistling the same tune Yachi had taught him during the arena. That sets off a chain reaction, because everyone begins copying him and doing the same salute.

Osamu watches, at a loss for words when everyone in the crowd raises three fingers into the air, in honor of him, of Suna, of their fallen tributes. Said man is silent behind him, watching the whole exchange with a blank look.

Almost immediately, the Peacekeepers standing guard at the front of the stage take out their batons in one swift movement before advancing into the crowd, heading straight for the boy.

People begin to scream in terror when they get pushed aside roughly, unable to stop them from getting to the boy. Though he didn't try to flee, only keeping his firm gaze on Osamu even when a Peacekeeper seizes the front of his shirt.

Osamu rushes off the stage, panic flaring in his chest as he tries to stop them. Suna just about takes one step forward when he's stopped by Peacekeepers, unable to do anything when they drag him into the town hall.

"No, no!" he hears someone scream before he could've himself, watching as a boy with grey hair struggles against the Peacekeepers holding him back, desperately crying out for the other boy, who only gives him a sorrowful look, "Daichi!"

Suddenly, two Peacekeepers appear in front of him, grabbing his arms with a firm grip. Osamu thrashes around harshly in their hold, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Let me go! Leave him alone!"

In the crowd, one Peacekeeper stands deathly still, not moving from his post as he watches the chaos ensue.

In a blink, he's dragged up the steps and back into the town hall, his desperate cries falling on deaf ears. Just as the doors are closing, he sees the boy get pushed to his knees before a gun is pressed to his forehead, causing Osamu's blood to run cold.

He lets out a broken cry the moment a bang goes off, watching his body drop lifelessly the moment the doors close.

Osamu sees red, anger flaring in his chest, "You—"

He rises to his feet, making a beeline for the nearest Peacekeeper with the intent of tearing his throat out, only for Suna to grab him by his waist and hold him back. With his rationality gone and only anger in his mind, he thrashes around wildly in the other's arms, screaming indefinable words.

Kita grabs his arm, forcing him to stop as he shushes him, "Osamu-kun, stop!"

"What did I do?" he breathes out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Come with me, come with me!" his mentor hisses, pulling him and Suna up the stairs as Alisa starts to explode downstairs, leaving it to Aran to calm her down while he deals with his juniors.

When they're far enough from eavesdropping ears, he turns to face them with a stern look, "You two had a very simple task—"

"I never meant for anyone to get killed, he has to know that," Osamu sobs, causing Kita's eyebrows to knit together in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he questions.

"President Hinata, he came to see me," Osamu pauses, letting out a shaky breath. "He's worried about rebellion in the districts, he thinks that they don't believe our love story."

Kita frowns, realization dawning upon him, "So he wants you to make them believe it."

Osamu nods, wiping away his tears, "To calm things down—"

"Osamu, you've should've told me that before I went out and tried to give these people money," Suna cut him off, sounding a little agitated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do," he hisses. "He threatened to kill off everyone in our district, all I had on my mind was about protecting them!"

"What about _them?"_ Kita interjects, gesturing to the crowd outside. "Who protects them?"

He sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Osamu-kun, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking about Yachi," Osamu answers, staring at him with a pleading gaze. "Kita-san, please. Just help me get through this trip—"

"This trip? Osamu-kun, that's not how it is," Kita shakes his head, staring at him with an incredulous gaze. "This trip doesn't end when you get back home. You _never_ get off this train."

Defeated, Osamu watches him continue to speak, "You two are mentors now. That means that every year they're gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance every year— your private life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so people forget what the real problems are." he finishes.

"So what do we do?" Suna speaks up blankly while Osamu stares off into blank space, trying to come to terms with what his mentor had just told him.

"You're gonna smile, you're gonna read the cards that Alisa gives you, and you're gonna live happily ever after," Kita glances between them, raising a brow. "Think you can do that?"

Osamu swallows the lump in his throat, nodding weakly. Kita reaches up, gently cupping his cheek as his gaze softens, "Yeah? Come here."

He lets himself get pulled into a hug, resting his head on Kita's shoulder as he stares out the window. He watches as a few Peacekeepers picks up the boy's body, bringing it off the stage.

A couple of feet away, the grey-haired boy is on his knees, weeping to himself. The Peacekeeper who did nothing and simply watched the boy's execution is nowhere to be seen.

"You're gonna be okay, I promise," Kita trails off, biting his lower lip as he embraces them closer to him. They never deserved this. Nobody did. He wishes he could do more than offer hugs and give lies disguised as pointless, blank promises.

Osamu doesn't believe it, but for Kita, he tries.

|———|

"Osamu and I want to share with you our victory, and our gratitude to the Capitol for bringing us together," Suna gives a smile as real as he could, trying to make the words he recited off Alisa's cue cards sound genuine. 

For the following days since then they go on with their Victory Tour, doing as Alisa and Kita said. Feigning smiles, waving to crowds, greeting _adoring_ fans and being the distraction every one needed.

"It was the bond of love, forged in the crucible of the Games, that was our greatest prize."

But at each district, Osamu could see at least a few people in the crowd staring up at him skeptically. Everywhere they go, less and less people seem to believe in their relationship.

"For it is love and true love, that allows us all to bear our hardships, that mends the heart and banishes loneliness and gives meaning to our lives."

After ending his speech, Suna tugs on Osamu's hand to pull him into a kiss. He obliges, kissing him as sweetly as he could before pulling away. Somewhere in the crowd, he sees a few people staring at them with doubt clear in their eyes.

He knows full well why they're doubtful of them both. Unlike the Capitol, those who live in the districts aren't as blind and gullible as them. They can easily tell that their relationship— his feelings towards Suna, they're all just for show.

If they're to make them believe in their love story, they'll need to try harder than this. But maybe it's Osamu's fault, somehow. Maybe they can see that he isn't putting in enough effort, maybe they can see the blankness in his eyes, and the falseness of his smile.

"We also want to share with you the sorrows of your losses, the tributes of this—" Osamu pauses, watching two people raise three of their fingers into the air, gazing determinedly into his widened eyes.

Almost immediately they are seized by Peacekeepers, getting dragged out of the crowd to be executed somewhere else. Osamu swallows, his throat suddenly drying up as he turns to Kita for reassurance.

His mentor gives him a slow nod, gesturing to his cue cards.

He looks back at the crowd and continues his speech, pretending as if nothing had happened, "The tributes of this district were brave and noble warriors who brought honor to their families and pride to their people."

He feigns ignorance of the betrayed looks sent to him by the crowd.

"We are all of us united, both Victors and vanquished, in serving a common purpose," with a smile, he and Suna give a bow before stepping off the platform.

The moment he steps onto the stage in one of the richer districts, he's met with applause and bright smiles. He feels a little disturbed, seeing how they're all so happy and how easily they bought their love story. Even if that's what he wanted in the first place. 

But it _is_ to be expected, this is a Career district. The people who live here have been brainwashed into thinking the Games are a wonderful thing, and he'd also heard the rumors about District 2 being one of the most loyal districts to the president.

As he approaches the front of the stage he accepts the flowers offered to him by a small boy, giving him a smile in return, "Thank you."

"One day, I'm gonna volunteer, just like you did," the little boy says, smiling brightly.

The smile on Osamu's lips slowly falters as he continues to stare into the boy's innocent yet determined eyes. He's probably no older than seven, and yet here he is, already aspiring to be a tribute in the tournament.

What a cruel world.

Back then, sleeping never came easy. And it looks like it never will.

Osamu jolts awake from his slumber, screaming at the top of his lungs. This is a normal occurrence for him, even when he was back in his home, in Victor's Village. Ever since the Games, sleep has been a luxury. One rare to occur, unfortunately. 

It would be a miracle if he manages to get even five hours of sleep without hearing Shirabu screaming, seeing Yachi's lifeless eyes or watching Semi plunge into darkness.

Atsumu and Nene would normally be the ones to comfort him after his nightmares, but they aren't here. They're back in District 12, and he's still on the train to the remaining district.

The door to his room suddenly opens and Suna runs in, alarm written all over his face. His screaming must've woken him up. _Great going Osamu._

"It was just a dream, I'm sorry," he pants, trying to even out his breaths.

"It's okay," Suna replies quietly. "I get them too."

Osamu looks at him, surprised. _Of course_ Suna would have them too. He was _with_ him in the Games. His heart aches when he sees the dark eyebags under his eyes, even more when he notices his sagged shoulders and tired eyes.

Suna nods, turning around, "Good night—"

"Rintarou," he calls out before he could leave, watching as Suna looks at him over his shoulder a little hopefully. He gulps nervously, "Will ya stay with me?"

His golden eyes widened slightly, "...Yeah."

Osamu makes some space for him on his bed, letting him scoot closer to him as he rested his head on Suna's chest. The other wraps his arms around him protectively, and Osamu feels himself relaxing, feeling safe in his arms.

"Always," Suna murmurs into his hair, right before he fell back asleep.

On the following day, they have only one more district left to give his speech to. But on the way to the square, he spots something written on the side of a building in red spray paint.

_The odds are never in our favor._

He blinks, forcing himself to look away.

This one does not go well, to say the least. It's chaos down there, the Peacekeepers barely able to restrain them as they riot, but they aren't able to exercise force either. At least nlot yet.

"We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, in serving a common purpose," he recites for the nth time, momentarily looking away from his cards and glancing at the people. "The power and glory of the Capitol—"

"Put down the cards!"

"Tell us what you _really_ think!"

_Ignore them, ignore them._

"Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever," he smiles at the angry faces in the crowd, weaving his hands with Suna's as he raises them into the air.

Not a moment later, the Peacekeepers begin to escort them off the stage. Osamu makes the mistake of glancing at a camera, letting his helplessness shine through at that very moment, before he walks away. 

President Hinata stares at him through the television screen, his expression unreadable. Shaking his head, he averts his gaze to his granddaughter, noticing that her hairstyle seems different from the last time he saw her.

_It almost looks like..._

"Your hair looks lovely, darling," his compliment is met with a sweet smile. He tilts his head, subtly scrutinizing it, "When did you start wearing it like that?"

"Everyone at school wears it like this now, Grandpa," she says a matter-of-factly, playing with a lock of her orange hair. "After seeing Nene-chan on TV, it became famous!"

President Hinata raises a brow, chuckling, "Is that so? Well, it suits you."

He glances at the empty chair to his left, opposite of his granddaughter. Laid out on the table is the same breakfast, however, untouched because the person it's meant for isn't present.

Contrary to popular belief, President Hinata quite likes spending time with his family, or rather, his grandchildren. His son and daughter-in-law would more often than not be too preoccupied to join, letting their children go in their places.

On most days, he would start his morning with a happy meal with them. But today, someone seems to be missing. For quite some time now too.

"Dear, where has your brother gone?" he turns to his granddaughter. "I haven't seen him in a while."

The small girl pouts as she peeled her tangerine, "Mommy says Daddy sent him off to Peacekeeping duty again."

 _That boy must've done something again, didn't he?_ It wasn't unusual for his grandson to be sent away on Peacekeeping duty even if he's only 16. He has a knack for stepping out of line sometimes. Perhaps it's because he's a little too passionate and... empathetic.

It honestly reminds him of his younger days, when he was still that naive.

When he gets back, Shohei is going to have to discipline him a little bit. 

|———|

"Hey."

Osamu looks away from the window, meeting eyes with Suna as he sat down on the chair across from him, smiling weakly, "Hey."

Suna sighs, resting his hands on his lap, "Kita-san expressed his... thoughts about us during this entire tour."

Osamu chuckles bitterly, recalling the words that had left Kita's mouth from when they spoke with him in the other car earlier. "Apparently, instead of being in love, we sound like we're recitin' from a drillin' manual." he huffs, tightening his grip on his forearm.

He knows that already, but being told that just makes him feel worse about himself.

"Well, he isn't wrong," hums the other, tapping his chin. "We sounded so fake when I rewatched the entire thing."

"Gee, thanks. That really helped," Osamu scoffs, earning a soft chuckle from Suna.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were wallowing in self-regret," he teases, propping his chin up on his hand. The mischievous smile on his lips only grows wider when Osamu shoots him a glare, amusement flashing in his golden eyes.

Osamu stays quiet and stares at him. It's probably close to evening right now, but the sun still seems as bright as when it shined into Suna's room this morning, waking him with a faceful of sunlight but not the other. Even now, when they are seated by the window, he doesn't seem fazed with the rays shining onto him.

His eyes twinkle in the sunbeams, their golden hues turning a shade brighter as they remain focused on him. His hair, a tousled mess of black on his forehead, also looks lighter—almost brown even— when the sun hits it. Blinking, Osamu looks away, feeling his heart skip a beat.

_Rin has always looked good in the sun._

Suna bites the inside of his cheek, unable to stop the smile growing on his lips. He looks down, chuckling to himself, catching Osamu's attention. 

"What's so funny?" he asks, raising a brow.

Shaking his head, Suna clears his throat, "Nothing, nothing."

Osamu narrows his eyes, staring at him with a scrutinizing gaze, "I know a lie when I hear one from ya."

However, they look away from each other when the scenery outside the window changes— and the tall, glass skyscrapers of the Capitol come into view, immediately putting a dampen on their mood. They gleam in the sun, and as beautiful as the Capitol's skyline is, he couldn't bring himself to appreciate it.

"There it is," Suna sighs, staring at it with a bitter gaze. "Our final destination."

Osamu pressed his lips into a thin line, clenching his fists, "We're gonna meet him soon."

And only then will he know, whether or not he's successful in his task. Even if he already knows the answer.

But for now, the answer rests with President Hinata as he sat in his office, smiling to himself with a glass of whiskey in his hands.

"Tonight, the tour that began in the hallows of District 12, will end... where?"

"The Presidential Palace, the party of the year," Alisa says breathlessly, looking up at the mansion as she walks through the front gates, Suna and Osamu trailing after her closely while also peering up at the large building in front of them.

Osamu frowns. He could hear the music from out here, and they were only in the compound. Saying that it looks fancy is an understatement. It is _extravagant_. The president definitely spared no expense hosting this party.

"Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on," she points in Osamu's direction over her shoulder. "I'm talking to you, Osamu."

Without missing a beat, she continues to speak as they make their way across the compound, walking up the steps, "Now, there'll be photographers, interviews. Everyone will be here to celebrate you, my victors."

Once they make it to the top of the stairs, she halts, letting out a breath that almost sounded like a squeal, "Breathe it all in, children."

Osamu stares at the sight in front of him blankly, as does Suna. It doesn't take a genius to know that he's less than excited about attending this party, unlike his escort. Rather than being here, he'd prefer to stay back on the train. But he was personally invited by the president, so it isn't a choice he was allowed to make.

Alisa turns around, and the sour look on his face immediately vanishes, "This is all for you."

"It's cozy," Suna remarks dryly.

 _"Attitude,"_ she sends him a pointed look, before turning back around and letting out a sigh. She perks up, smiling brightly, "Come, come."

The moment they step into the mansion's courtyard they're greeted with applause and cheers from people clad in fancy outfits gaudier than anything Osamu's ever seen. Alisa makes them hold each other's hand, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from frowning at them as they let their eyes give him thorough once-overs.

He nearly jerks away when a man reaches out to run his hand down his arm, causing his stomach to churn in discomfort, even more so when he notices the dark gaze in his eyes, like he's viewing Osamu as a piece of meat.

Suna suddenly appears at his side when the space gets a little wider, sending him a concerned gaze. Osamu shakes his head, giving him a smile as he holds onto his forearm to keep them close to each other.

They stride into the president's mansion, trying to keep up with Alisa's quick pace as she walks through the hallway, emerging into another room full of people.

"The library, all mahogany," she hums excitedly, then turns to greet some people. "Hello, hello. Not yet, not yet! Ooh, curtains!"

She turns to face them, finally slowing down her pace as she grins, "Everybody who's anybody is here, and they all want to meet you."

That doesn't make Osamu any more happy about all of this.

Alisa's eyes light up when they walk out of the room and into a ballroom of sorts, spotting her assistants a few feet away, "Haruto, Ichika!"

The music changes to something a little more classical, and Osamu quickly puts on a smile before he and Suna make their way over to them near the buffet table, surrounded by various types of dishes, ranging from cake to a whole roast turkey.

"Try one of these," Ichika suggests, presenting a plate full of macarons to Suna, who stares at the desserts with an exhausted look, having already eaten a lot of stuff.

He smiles tightly, shaking his head, "No, I can't eat another thing."

Haruto picks a glass of what seems to be a pink drink off the tray of a passing waiter before handing it over to him, grinning, "Here."

Suna accepts it with a raised brow, "What's this?"

"It's for when you're full," he answers, grinning widely, though his answer doesn't really help much.

"It makes you sick, so you can go on eating," Ichika chimes in. "How else could you go on eating?"

At that moment, the music switches to a waltz. Suna smiles, handing the drink and his plate over to Haruto, "I think it's time for a dance, Osamu?"

Without any objections, Osamu lets him lead him to the center of the dance floor. He feels Suna's hand come to rest on his hip, while the other takes his hand as he rests the other one on his arm. Having been coached by Alisa a while back, he isn't unfamiliar to the steps of a waltz.

Alhough it does take a lot of stepping on toes and stumbling over feet, he manages to grasp it.

"People are starving in Twelve," Suna says quietly, silent anger flashing in his eyes. "Here they're just... throwing it up to stuff more in."

"Osamu, Suna!" Alisa calls out for them, weaving through the crowd with a red-haired man trailing after her. She gestures to him, smiling brightly, "This is Tendou Satori, Head Gamemaker and successor to Hasegawa Ryusei."

So, they already had a replacement for him.

"That's a... tough fact to follow," Suna hums, unbothered.

Their escort sends him a stern look, "Suna."

Tendou lets out a laugh, a hearty one, seemingly amused by his wry comment, a reaction Suna obviously didn't expect. He gestures to Osamu, flashing a charming smile, "May I?"

Suna glances at Osamu, then smiles, "Please."

He moves away, letting Tendou take his place. He and Osamu move a little further, deeper into the dance floor. Though Osamu wanted him to say no, he knows better than to decline the Head Gamemaker.

But then again, nobody is safe from the President.

He tries to not let his discomfort show on his face, though Tendou's striking dark red eyes make it a little hard to look away. They dance in silence between each other, but it's short-lived.

"So, how do you like the party?" he questions, smiling with a tinge of mischief in his eyes.

"It's a little overwhelming," Osamu answers honestly, having nothing to hide about it.

Tendou rolls his eyes, "It's appalling, you and I both know it."

"But," he chuckles lightly, swaying along to the music with Osamu. "I guess it could be fun if you abandon your moral judgement."

Osamu raises a brow, not the least bit interested, "So are ya having fun?" 

Tendou grins, "I'm the Head Gamemaker, fun is my job."

"I thought that's what happened to Hasegawa Ryusei," Osamu quips dryly, catching a glint of amusement in the redhead's eyes. "Too much fun."

"Ryusei-kun decided to... quit breathing," he answered simply.

_"Decided?"_

The man shrugs, "It was either that or poison berries. Being Head Gamemaker has never been the most secure job in the world."

"So why are you here?" Osamu inquirs, staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

"Same reason as you," he grins widely. "I volunteered."

"Why?"

Tendou mulls over it for a brief moment, his smile never faltering, "Ambition. The chance to make the Games mean something."

Osamu's eyes slightly narrow at the mention of the Games, anger flaring in his chest, "The Games don't mean anything. They only mean to scare us."

The redhead hums, chuckling, "Or maybe it was just you who inspired me to come back."

Confusion flashes in Osamu's eyes, but the moment he opens his mouth, the anthem starts to play, catching everyone's attention as it only means one thing. He turns to face the mansion's balcony, where everyone's gaze lay.

"Ah," he glances at Tendou, noting the sly smile on his lips. "The Presidential Welcome."

The Head Gamemaker meets his gaze, an indefinable look in his dark red eyes, "I'm sure we'll meet again."

He turns, quickly slipping behind Alisa before Osamu could've stopped him and ask him all the questions swirling in his head. His escort grins, grabbing his arm, "Osamu, come. The president awaits!"

She pushes him forward, and all Osamu can do is just glance at his back as he gets further away from Tendou. But he swears he saw the corner of his lips were still inching upwards in that smile of his.

"You think we convinced him?" Suna asks quietly as they weave through the crowd, Alisa behind them and practically bouncing with excitement.

Osamu grits his teeth, "I'm not sure what else we can do." 

They stand at the front, peering up at the balcony with grim faces unlike the rest of the crowd who are all smiles. While they are happy to see their beloved president, Osamu would much prefer to be blind.

The man of the hour steps onto the balcony, adorning one of his many suits with the same white rose as a decoration in his pocket. He holds up his drink, smiling at the crowd as they give an applause.

"Tonight, on this the last day of their tour," he speaks the moment the cheers die down, his voice booming loudly in the air. "I want to welcome our victors— two young people, who embody our ideals of strength and valor."

"Your love has inspired us, and I know it will go on inspiring us, every day, for as long as you may live."

The crowd breaks out with more cheering at the end of his speech, and he raises his glass in a toast before bringing it to his lips. Osamu jolts when a loud boom goes off, his eyes moving to look at the colors exploding in the sky.

More and more fireworks light up the night sky, hypnotizing the crowd as they turn around to get a better view. Osamu, however, turns back around, making eye-contact with President Hinata on the balcony.

The man shakes his head, a disapproving gaze in his eyes with a look that clearly reads—

_You failed._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ warning: mental breakdowns

Osamu lays awake in bed that night, watching the raindrops slide on the windows as it rains cats and dogs. Suna is sleeping soundly next to him, having fallen asleep hours ago, because unlike him, he was actually tired. Not wanting to stay in bed any longer, he quietly gets up and leaves the room.

The door slides open and he steps into the empty and dark lounge, a contrast to how it was during the day because Alisa and Kita are nowhere to be seen. He shivers at the cold air and wraps his coat tighter around his body, silently wishing for the heating systems to turn on right now.

The tour ended— for the lack of a better word— _horribly_. Though, Osamu isn't as surprised as he thought he'd be. Perhaps, it's because he expected this, expected to see that disappointed look in the president's hazel eyes, expected him to shake his head and tell him that he failed _miserably_.

He doesn't know what awaits him next, and normally, he'd be scared. But right now, in the midst of night, as the rain pours and as the winds bellow— he feels calm. Maybe not for long, because reality might set in later during the day, telling him that something is not right. 

As he walks into the hallway he peers into the control room once again since the door is open for all to see. His eyes widen in shock upon seeing the footage being played on the projected screens.

Fire. Screams. _Blood_.

The people of District 8 are fighting against the Peacekeepers trying to keep them in place, and they are almost winning. They're throwing bottles, setting them on fire and going so far as to hurt them in any way imaginable.

How had Osamu not known of this?

The rebellion has already begun, had he been blind to it all along? He's been fighting a losing battle all this time when he's supposed to be on the winning side. But with the president keeping a careful eye on him, he cannot change sides.

Otherwise, Suna, his family, his district— _all_ his loved ones will pay for it.

And that's the last thing he wants, after all he's been through, after all he's fought for.

|———|

"Look at them," President Hinata scoffs, glaring at the projected screen as he watches someone raise a sign with the Mockingjay symbol on it, painted with a red color. "He's not who they think he is, he's not a leader— he just wants to save his own skin, it's as simple as that."

Tendou looks down at his teacup, humming, "I think that's true."

"But he's become a beacon of hope for the rebellion," the older man says lowly, a dark look in his hazel eyes. "And he has to be eliminated."

"I agree he should die but in the right way, the right time," the Head Gamemaker chimes in, chancing a look at him. "It's moves and counter-moves, that's all we gotta look at."

Tendou points at the screen, a sly smile growing on his lips, "Miya Osamu is a symbol— their Mockingjay, they think he's one of them so we need to show he's one of us. We don't need to destroy him, just the _image_ , then we let the people do the rest."

President Hinata raises a brow, leaning into his seat, "So, what do you propose?"

"Shut down the black markets, take away what little they have then double the amount of floggings, executions, put them on TV, broadcast them live," Tendou lists down. "Sow fear, more fear."

"It won't work, fear does not work as long as they have hope and Miya Osamu is giving them _hope_ ," the president shakes his head in disagreement. 

"He's in a relationship, make everything about that," Tendou replies, the smile on his lips never faltering. "What does he do in the mornings? Floggings. What does he usually have for breakfast? Executions. What's his everyday routine? Fear. Blanket coverage, shove it in their faces, show them that he's one of us now."

President Hinata nods, a smile growing on his face as Tendou continues to speak, beginning to like the idea he is suggesting. Maybe this could work after all, though, he still seems to prefer his own method. But he could give the new Head Gamemaker's suggestion a go.

Tendou chuckles, the sound almost sinister, "They're gonna hate him so much they might even kill him for you."

"Brilliant," the president hums, making his final decision right then and there. 

|———|

The door to Osamu's house opens and he steps in, immediately making a beeline into the living room in search of his twin brother. He finds him and Nene in the kitchen, in the middle of preparing breakfast.

"We need to talk," he says breathlessly, regarding Atsumu with a grim gaze.

"... Finish up without me, alright buttercup?" Atsumu turns to their little sister, giving her a smile as he took off his apron and hangs it on the wall. "We'll be back when you're done."

He follows Osamu out the door, and soon finds himself in the woods on the outskirts of their village. Judging from the look on his twin's face, it must've been something bad. He has an inkling it has something to do with whatever business the president had with him over a week ago.

"We can't stay here anymore, 'Tsumu," Osamu begins, much to Atsumu's confusion.

His brows knit together in confusion, "What are ya talkin' about?"

"It's not safe anymore 'Tsumu, we can't stay in Twelve any longer, we gotta run away," his brother stresses, running a hand through his hair as Atsumu stares back at him in disbelief.

They'd talked about this a couple of times, back when they were in the middle of their teenage years. It was Atsumu who had suggested it at first, to run away into the woods and start a life outside of the districts, possibly free from the system— the Capitol.

But it was quickly shot down by Osamu, as ironic as it is right now. They had a sister to take care off and they were only teenagers— they were still children. How were they going to fend for themselves in these woods?

After much poking and prodding, Osamu finally tells him everything, about what had happened in District 8, during his tour, about the brewing storm known as the rebellion.

Atsumu sighs, arms crossed over his chest, "So where are we gonna run away?"

"Into the woods, like we always talked about when we were younger," Osamu answers. "We leave right now, we're gonna be far away from here by tonight."

"Osamu, ya said that the president threatened not only us, but our district too," Atsumu frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Why are we leavin' them to fend for themselves?"

Osamu falls silent at that, a conflicted look flashing in his eyes, "Don't make it any harder for me, 'Tsumu. I don't want to leave them either but I have no choice—"

"Ya do have a choice," his brother cuts him off, grabbing his shoulders and squeezing them. "And that's to fight alongside our district, alongside the _rebellion._ "

"Didn't ya hear what I told you? If I fight back, all of us will die!" Osamu hisses, staring at him with an incredulous gaze. "If I so much as to step another centimetre out of line, god knows what Hinata is going to do!"

He drops his head into his hands, gritting his teeth, "I should've eaten the berries in the arena and died like I was supposed to, then none of this would've happened and everyone would've been safe—"

"Safe for what? To starve?" Atsumu interrupts, anger flashing in his eyes. "Work like slaves? Send their kids to the Reaping? Ya haven't hurt people, Osamu— you've given them an opportunity, they just have to be brave enough to take it."

Osamu chews on his bottom lip, clenching his fists as he takes in Atsumu's words, letting a tense silence fall over them. An opportunity, for what? To start war? To risk their lives, to die? All for freedom?

A rebellion happened before, a long, long time ago— it failed. It failed and the Capitol created what now was known as the Hunger Games to remind them of their failure, to remind them that they can never overthrow the system.

But they will never learn their lesson, for as long as the system goes on.

His twin sighs, "There's already talk in the town, too. People want to fight, 'Samu. And ya can't stop them, we've been living like this for far too long and we don't deserve it, so we have to do something about it."

"We have to go, 'Tsumu," Osamu pleads, desperation flashing in his eyes as his heart twists in pain. "Before they kill us— they _will_ kill us."

"What about the other people, like I said?" Atsumu raised a brow. "The ones who stay? What's going to happen to them while we escape to save ourselves? People are lookin' to ya, Osamu—"

Osamu's eyes shoot up, anger flashing in them as he snaps, "I don't want anyone lookin' to me, I _can't_ help them—"

A loud sound startles them both, a sound similar to the engine of a truck. Atsumu grabs him by his shoulders and pulls him down into a bush, peering at the vehicles which drive by them on the road down below.

It's a never-ending trail of military trucks filled with Peacekeepers, heading straight for their district for whatever reason Osamu doesn't know, but has a bad feeling about just by seeing the soldiers in white.

"I'm not gonna leave them, 'Samu," his brother whispers to him, staring at him with a firm gaze. "Not when the time has finally come for us to stop this once and for all."

Osamu swallows the lump in his throat inhaling shakily. He looks away for a moment, before sighing, "... Fine, ya already know I'm with ya every step of the way."

The smile that Atsumu gives him makes his heart swell and ache at the same time, knowing that every single thing he does while under the surveillance of the president will determine how everything will play out.

A truck stops in front of the Justice Building, directly in the center of the square. The door to the driver's seat opens and a man with a scarred face steps out, looking to be somewhere in his late-fourties.

"Commander Takeuchi," the Head Peacekeeper moves his way over to him, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Welcome to District Twelve—"

A Peacekeeper covers his face with a black bag while another handcuffs him and tackles him onto the ground. The other man looks unbothered as he lets his eyes roam over the place, "Let's get to work."

He raises his gun up and fires a single shot into the air, eliciting screams from all of the people watching. The shot echoes in the air, reaching Osamu's ears as quickly as it sounded.

He rises to his feet along with Atsumu, fear flaring in his chest as he hurries back to their district, unaware of what is waiting for him in the plaza.

The moment he runs to the town he sees more trucks arriving, bringing in more and more Peacekeepers. They jump off the trucks, making a beeline for—

"The Hob," Osamu gasps, his blood running cold.

People began to scream when the soldiers in white begin to flood the area, destroying all of the their things which are deemed illegal. They spare absolutely no mercy, and people who are in their way are taken care of in the most brutal ways.

After piling everything into a single pile they set it on fire, along with the entirety of the Hob. The people of District Twelve— along with Osamu— watch with wide eyes as the whole building goes up in flames.

Osamu spots an old woman whom he always used to trade with stumbling out of the building, and he quickly runs over to her, "Chiyo-san!"

"My eye," she wails in pain, clutching onto one bloody eye as Osamu steadies her, quickly examining her wound.

"Take care of her eye, I'm goin' on ahead," Atsumu tells him, not giving him a chance to speak because he's already running off, making a beeline for the square in the distance where he sees some people getting lined up by Peacekeepers.

Osamu glances around for a moment before looking back at the old lady, "Let's get ya somewhere safe."

_Don't be reckless, ya idiot._

He brings her into an alleyway and makes her sit down while he soaks a towel in water. "Here," he says, gently moving her hand out of her eye and placing the towel on it. "Yeah, keep that on there for a while."

Osamu looks over his shoulder, watching as a few people run into the alleyway, as if fleeing from something. Suddenly, his ears pick up on a familiar voice crying out in pain.

He gets up, fear coloring his face before he breaks into a sprint, running past people as they head in the opposite direction of him while he quickly makes his way to the square, where his brother's cries sounded louder.

Pushing past the crowd, his eyes widen when he sees his brother in the center of the square, getting whipped by an unknown man whose face is littered with scars.

"No!" he shouts, running out into the open. "No, stop!"

He gets in between the man and his brother, seizing his wrist and stopping him from giving Atsumu another whip. The man snarls, reeling his other hand back and punching Osamu's cheek.

He drops onto the ground, hissing in pain. But he quickly shields himself when the man brings his whip up and gives him one as well, making pain bloom all over his back.

"It's alright 'S-Samu," Atsumu breathes out with a wince. "Just.. Just go."

But Osamu had other plans. He gets up, and uses his body to shield him from the man, who turns to give him a dark look.

"Move," Commander Takeuchi growls, but Osamu doesn't budge. He raises his whip threateningly, "You want another?"

"Go ahead," Osamu answers nonchalantly yet firmly. 

Anger flashes in his eyes and in one swift movement, he pulls out his gun from his holster, aiming it directly at Osamu as his finger rests on the trigger. Osamu swallows the lump in his throat, but makes no move to back away.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there," Kita suddenly appears in front of Osamu, holding his hands up in a defensive position.

Commander Takeuchi aims his gun at him instead, snapping, "Get out of my way!"

"Listen, you don't want to shoot him—"

"How 'bout I shoot both of you?" he cocks his gun, cutting him off.

Kita pauses, slightly narrowing his eyes, "Trust me, I'm trying to help you. This here is Miya Osamu, you recognize him? The Darling of the Capitol?"

Commander Takeuchi grits his teeth, lowering his gun, "He interfered with a Peacekeeper."

"You were whipping his _brother_ —" he turns, pointing his gun at Suna who has seemingly appeared out of nowhere, face twisted in obvious rage. Kita grabs him by his forearm, pulling him behind him before he could've said anything else.

"Look, you already got a couple of lashes in, right—"

"That's not good enough, he's an agitator!" the commander snarls, bringing his gun up again.

Kita sets his jaw, regarding him with a sharp gaze, "Commander, are you sure President Hinata wants three dead victors here? Because that's what we're looking at— it's bad enough that you marked up his face. Let it go, and we will too."

Commander Takeuchi scowls, glancing at Osamu's cut on his cheekbone. Slowly, he lowers his gun, putting it back into its holster, "Alright, okay."

He steps closer to Kita, narrowing his eyes with a clear warning in them, "But next time, it's the firing squad. I don't care who he is."

Their mentor nods, "Excellent idea."

"Clear the square," the man bellows right into Kita's face, causing him to flinch a little. He turns around, glaring at the crowd onlookers which have begin to disperse, "You're all under curfew! Anyone out after dark will be shot on sight!"

Turning back to Kita, he throws a disdainful look at Atsumu's writhing figure, "Get him outta here."

Without another moment to waste, Osamu and Suna get to helping Atsumu off the ground as a few other people rush forward to assist them too. Kita stares at the new Head Peacekeeper sharply, holding himself back from doing something that would definitely get him executed.

Suna throws the door open to the kitchen, sending an alarmed look to Nene, "It's Atsumu."

"Bring him here!" she yells, only letting shock grace her features for a split second. 

She clears the counter in a blink, letting them place her brother on it while she goes to search for her medical kit in the cabinets. Osamu hovers by his brother's side, taking in the damage done to him with wide eyes.

"The new Head Peacekeeper, not entirely peaceful," Kita states quietly, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes stay glued to Atsumu's figure while Osamu lets Nene examine the cut on his cheek.

"Missed your eye, doesn't need stitches," she concludes, then turns to look at Suna. "Rin-nii, get some snow. Kita-san, can you help me grind the herbs?"

Suna quickly runs out of the house while Kita moves behind the counter, obliging. She pulls out a bottle of some clear liquid and unscrews the cap then pours some of it onto Atsumu's back, making him cry out in pain.

"What is that? It's hurtin' him," Osamu asks in alarm as Nene sets it down on the counter.

"He needs morphling," she answers, setting it down onto the table next to him.

As she turns away, she sees Kita struggle to insert the tip of the needle into the painkiller vial, his hands trembling uncontrollably. Walking over to him, she places a gentle hand on his wrist, making him look into her eyes.

"Kita-san, I'll do it," she says quietly, a look of certainty in her eyes.

Relenting, he lets her take the syringe and the vial, watching as she easily inserts it into the bottle. Placing it down, she turns back around to Atsumu. "Hold him down, please," she tells Osamu, just before injecting the morphling into him.

Atsumu groans, but otherwise does not move in Osamu's hold as the needle is injected into his skin. A few moments later he starts to relax, and he sighs out in relief, "That's better."

Osamu's eyes move to look at his little sister, staring at her with newfound awe as she puts away the syringe. The girl in front of him now is definitely a far cry from the one he soothed back to sleep on the day of the Reaping many moons ago.

Later that night, it's him who keeps his twin company in the kitchen while everyone else sleeps. Nene had offered to keep watch and so did Kita, but he assured them that he'd be fine and ushered them to get some well-deserved rest. After the painkiller had entered his system, it was lights out for Atsumu for the rest of the day until now.

Osamu stares at his brother's peaceful sleeping face before reaching out to brush some of his hair away from his forehead. His ears drown out the fireplace's crackling and the sound of water droplets dripping into the basin, instead zoning in on Atsumu's quiet breaths.

He lets his fingers tangle in his hair, leaning his head on his arm as he feels his eyes start to droop. It must be around three in the morning right now, but as much as he wants to keep his eyes open, he finds himself slowly dozing off, the fire's warmth coaxing him to fall asleep.

The sound of the door creaking open makes him jolt awake, and his eyes fall on Suna's figure as he walks in through the back door, letting in some of the cold air from outside as well. "Hey," he greets him, giving him a small smile as he approached him.

"Rin," Osamu murmurs, hiding a yawn behind his hand. He looks up, blinking slowly. "... What are ya doing here?"

"I can look after him for you," he says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You should get some rest."

Osamu keeps quiet, looking back at his sleeping brother. He reaches out, lifting the cloth draped over his back, checking his snowcoat which has already melted. "I'll go get him some more snow," he answers, getting up from the chair and walking over to the shoe rack.

Suna pressed his lips into a line, moving to sit down on his chair. His eyes drift over to Osamu, watching him as he put on his boots, pausing for a moment afterwards to shake away the tiredness in his eyes. Getting up, his boots thump quietly on the ground before he disappears out the front door.

As Osamu gathers some snow into a small basin, he hears the sound of a door shutting and soft footsteps heading towards him, the snow crunching with every step. He doesn't need to look up to know that it's his sister.

"Hey," he mutters, keeping his eyes trained on the snow as he shovels some into the basin. It's cold, and he should've worn gloves, but even with the ice stinging his skin, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Nene kneels down next to him, trying to get a good look at his healing cut, "How's your eye?"

"It's not my eye that's botherin' me," Osamu scowls, glaring down at the snow as he throws it into the basin a little too harshly. He grits his teeth, "How can we live like this? How can _anybody_ live like this?"

"It's not living, but," Nene says quietly, turning to look at him with a shine in her eyes. "Since the last Games, something is different. I can see it."

He pauses, averting his gaze to his sister as his brows furrow in confusion, wondering what she meant by that. "What can ya see?" Osamu asks, tilting his head.

She smiles, letting it reach her eyes, "Hope."

"... Ya understand that whatever I do comes back to ya and 'Tsumu, right?" he murmurs, clenching his fists. "I don't want ya to get hurt."

Nene reaches out, grabbing his hand and gives him a comforting squeeze, her smile never dropping, "You don't have to protect me, or 'Tsumu-nii. We're with you."

Osamu is suddenly hit with the urge to cry, feeling his eyes start to sting with tears after hearing her words. He leans forward, bringing her into a tight hug. She rests her head on his shoulder, clutching onto his back as he cards his fingers through her soft, black locks, bringing him back to when he did it after her nightmares.

"I love you," he tells her, feeling her tighten her grip on the back of his shirt. He only holds onto her tighter, looking up at the gray sky as he tries to push away the foreboding feeling threatening to ruin this moment with his sister.

"I love you too, 'Samu-nii," she replies quietly, for he isn't the only one with this feeling.

|———|

"The broadcast cut out here," Tendou mutters, pausing the clip just as Osamu gets in between Commander Takeuchi and his brother, then setting down the remote on the President's desk. "Before any of the excitement happened."

President Hinata stares at the projected screen with an unreadable look, "How many people saw it?"

"Hard to say, there was a five second delay but... it happened fast," the Gamemaker answers with a shrug, his eyes moving to lock with the president's gaze.

Many people have cowered in fear under the eyes of Panem's great president, but Tendou Satori is one of the few who dares to hold it, never tearing his gaze away from his hazel orbs as the older man regards him with a calculating look, as if he is trying to see whatever it is that hides behind his dark red eyes.

"If you cannot contain Miya Osamu," he says, a clear threat underlying his words as he spoke. "Then I will have to terminate him."

Tendou nods, choosing not to smile in favor of looking serious, "I understand that."

"And not just him—" President Hinata resumes the clip, watching as Kita runs into view, stopping right in front of Osamu. "—his entire species has to be eliminated."

"His entire species, sir?"

"The other victors," the president explains, gesturing to the men on screen at that very moment. "Now, because of him, they all pose a threat. Because of him, they all think they're invincible."

Tendou's eyes move to look at the projected screen, catching Suna sneaking up on the commander, only for Kita to pull him behind him after he spooked the soldier. It'll be a shame if they are to be taken away from him so easily, so he needs to play his cards right if he wants to keep his assets.

President Hinata leans into his chair, eyes narrowing, "Whatever game it is that you think you're playing, those out there are _not_ playing it with you."

The Head Gamemaker hums, allowing a smile to curve his lips as he turns to face the president, "There's a way we can still win. It's what we Gamemakers like to call... a wrinkle."

Cheers and applause are what greets him when President Hinata steps onto the podium in front of him a few days later, on the day of the announcement of the Quarter Quell. He smiles at the crowd, lifting a hand to silence them. It takes less than a minute for the audience to fall silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice booms in the air, echoing loudly through the microphone. "This is the 75th year of the Annual Hunger Games."

His words elicit another round of exuberant cheers from the citizens, their loudness even reaching Osamu through the speakers as he watches the president continue to speak through the screen, from inside the comfort of his home in District 12 with his family by his side. What he lacks in excitement, he makes up with anxiety.

" _And it was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising of the Capitol—_ "

Suna glares at the man on the screen, his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to keep himself from shaking with anxiousness... as well as anger. Hearing the president's voice always seems to trigger this sort of reaction from him nowadays, as if the mere sound of his voice is hated by every fibre of his being.

It isn't surprising, and he is sure he isn't the only one who feels this way too. The people from his district all hold hatred towards President Hinata for making them go through so much pain in their lives. Because of him, his family was taken from him. Because of him, he went through so much pain and grief. Because of him, he went through what nobody should ever have gone through.

" _—each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance... and now, on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd Quarter Quell as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol—_ "

Kita's grip on his armrest increases, anger flaring in his chest upon hearing his words. He sucks in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. _Getting angry won't solve anything_ , he tells himself. All he can do now is just watch, because if he tries to hit the president, his hand will only go through the hologram screen. 

_"On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games,"_ President Hinata's tone lowers, and he even has the audacity to smile a bit. _"All the tributes, male or female, are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."_

As soon as he finishes that statement the crowd goes wild, obviously having mixed reactions to the sudden change of rules in the Games compared to the previous held tournaments. 

"No!" Nene shouts in disbelief, and immediately she looks as if she's about to cry. Atsumu swears loudly in the background, pacing back and forth behind the couch. 

Osamu gets up from where he was seated on the couch, feeling his ears begin to ring. His head hurts, barely hearing the cries of his own family and President Hinata continuing his brief on the 3rd Quarter Quell like nothing happened, but Osamu knows for a fact that man knows _exactly_ what he's doing.

He's only just got out of the arena, and that was due to a slight setback and mistake on the Capitol's parts which ultimately saved Osamu and Suna's lives. That was all luck. The president is certainly not going to permit any further mistakes in this year's Games.

Osamu loves archery. He enjoys the feeling of the bow and arrow grasped between his fingers, along with the split second of satisfaction when he allows the arrow to fly at the correct time for it to hit his target perfectly. 

It feels ironic, because as President Hinata's speech registers in his head, along with his siblings' pained screaming for all of this to be a disgusting lie, Osamu feels as if for each second he continues to breathe, the tip of an arrow drives deeper into his heart.

Pain. He feels pain blooming in his chest despite there being no injuries. His hand begins trembling without him realizing. Uncaring of the president's announcements any longer, Osamu walks past Suna— who has a similar expression to his own on his face— and runs out of the house, heading into the woods.

He runs and runs until his legs give out, and left with no other choice to express the painful emotions swirling within him like an unstoppable storm, he drops to his knees and screams into his palms until his voice turns raw.

Today, there isn't a single wind in the air or the chirping of birds. As Osamu's sobs echo throughout the forest, the trees remain silent, as if nature is sympathizing with him. 

|———|

_"All the tributes, male or female, are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."_

The gears in Kita's head come to a skidding stop, his breath stops in his throat, his heart stops in his chest— everything stops, everything but the president's voice, taunting him, _mocking_ him as his words echo continously in his hollow mind. _Is it funny to you?_ he wonders. Does he gain amusement from this? Of course he does, everyone in the Capitol always does.

Disbelief courses through the numbness in his head, bringing with it endless thoughts of this all just being a dream, a dream of which he should wake up from soon. But it's washed away when everything starts to registers in his mind, as he watches the president continue to speak, that knowing smile on his lips. What follows through was,

 _Anger_.

Kita sees red. His hand finds the vase on the table next to his couch, nostrils flaring as he flings it at the president's face only for it to fly through the hologram and smash into his wall, breaking into a million pieces with a loud crash just like how he did a moment ago.

_Boiling anger._

Unsatisfied, he throws the pillows, the lamp, the bowl of fruits— anything he could get his hands on until a well-timed throw finally knocks the projector off, and President Hinata's taunting face dissipates into thin air, but his grin has already been seared deep into KIta's memory.

Then, he _screams_.

He screams as he digs his nails into his scalp, inflicting pain onto himself as if to find out whether or not this is truly reality. Pain blooms on his head, burning _hot_ pain, what else could've happened other than that?

He screams at the cruelty of the world, wondering just how much more he has to suffer to until his voice is hoarse and nothing is left but a soundless croak. The last time he'd done this was so long ago, when he was just a fresh new Victor, when he'd just escaped the hands of the arena, when he came back to an empty house.

His fingernails are caked with blood when he pulls away, reality finally setting in through the burning pain on his head and the sting of his throat, informing him that once again, just like last time, ten years ago, when his name was picked from the glass bowl—

Hot tears drip from his chin, his wide eyes staring blankly at his scar-filled hands as they begin to tremble uncontrollably, the memories of how he got them returning to the front of his mind again, as if it was just yesterday when he was crowned the Victor of his Games.

—just like ten years ago, that this is all _real_.

As much as he wishes this scenario belongs to one of his frequent nightmares, this is reality. Kita Shinsuke, of all people, is unfortunate enough to be fully aware of the fact that when one dares to argue with reality, they'll be met with nothing but a disappointing, meaningless defeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the announcement of the 3rd quarter quell!! *cues dramatic music*


	4. Chapter 4

Osamu doesn't know how long he's been sitting in the forest after he's done crying, just numbly staring off into blank space and letting the cold bite his skin. However, seeing that the tear-tracks on his cheeks have dried, it must've been quite a while. Amidst the thoughts let loose in his mind, a single name suddenly resurfaces.

"Rintarou..." he whispers tp himself, eyes growing wide as realization dawns upon him. If he gets chosen alongside him, there's no way the president's going to let him live again like last time. He's not going to make the same mistake again. Maybe this is just to correct said mistake too.

He rises to his feet, using the tree next to him to steady himself on his shaky legs before taking off in the direction of his mentor's house. When he opens the door to Kita's home, his breath catches in his throat, falling silent at the sight before him.

It's as if a tornado had gone through the older man's house and left nothing but destruction behind. Tables are flipped, chairs are pushed aside and sharp shards of glass littered the ground, waiting to be stepped on. Osamu cautiously steps in, his boots crunching on the glass shards as he makes his way deeper into the house.

He finds the man in the middle of his living room, in the same state as he was a few moments ago. His white hair is matted with what seems to be blood, and from what he could see, his nails also have remnants of blood in them, already dried up.

All in all, he looks like a train-wreck. But Osamu is sure he looks almost just like him, if not just a little less worse.

"Kita-san!" Osamu gasps, dropping to his knee in front of the man, letting his eyes give him a once-over, quickly taking in his condition. "What happened to ya? Are ya hurt?"

Kita closes his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as he thumps his head back against the wall. He brings his hands up, rubbing away the tear trails on his cheeks, "... I'm fine now, don't worry, Osamu-kun."

Frowning, Osamu finds that somewhat hard to believe, but he doesn't press on the topic any further. Instead, he takes a seat next to him, careful not to injure himself with the shards on the ground. The two of them stare off into blank space, letting silence blanket them.

"... You must've come to me for a reason, but I'll have you know that I can't provide any soothing words for you right now," Kita speaks up, breaking the peaceful silence as Osamu bites his bottom lip.

Kita is right. He _did_ come here for a reason, but not the reason they both have in mind. He doesn't want to ask this of his mentor, but he can't have Suna joining the Games with him again, not a second time.

"You would've thought that they would give us victors a break after winning the Games," Osamu scoffs, clenching his fists as anger flares in his chest, anger directed to the Capitol, to President Hinata.

Kita shakes his head, lowering his eyes to the ground, "Nobody ever wins the Games, Osamu-kun... they only survive it."

Osamu chews on his bottom lip again before sighing, "I don't suppose ya have anymore liquor?"

His mentor lets out a chuckle, allowing a wry smile to grow on his lips, "Alisa and Aran made me throw it all out a long time ago after I promised them to quit drinking. They didn't waste a second to make me do it."

"Unfortunate. I could've used some of it right now," Osamu jokes light-heartedly, not knowing why he is trying to lighten the mood instead of telling Kita why he's here in the first place. "... Rintarou has to survive, _again_."

Kita's smile slowly falls as he turns to look at Osamu, who holds his gaze with a guilty yet desperate look. For a second, Kita is reminded of Osamu's child self, the young boy who was quiet and shy and would always hide behind him when faced with the unknown.

He's not the child version of him anymore, but the expression in his eyes are reminiscent to the ones he gave him on nights when he jolted awake from his slumber due to a nightmare, thrashing in his bed whilst calling out for his dead parents.

Many times he had clung onto Kita, crying out for his mother and father who have been long gone with the same look in his gray hues. It didn't take long before the poor child fell back asleep because the exhaustion proved to be too much.

There have been many children that Kita failed to help— to _save_ — since the day he became a mentor all those years ago, and he hasn't forgiven himself for each and every one of their deaths. So now, when he's given a choice to finally help one of them, he'll take it.

Even if it means losing his own life.

"Please, Kita-san," Osamu's voice brings him back into reality, the younger's voice practically bleeds with desperation. "I can't have him join the Games again, not when it's just to get rid of me."

"... Alright," Kita answers quietly, looking back up at Osamu. "If... If they call his name, I'll volunteer in his place. But— if they call my name, just know that there's nothing I can do for that outcome."

"Ya can help him in the arena," Osamu replies, watching his mentor's gaze become downcast again. He frowns, "Like ya did for me."

Kita's shoulders slump, a sigh leaving his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest, "Osamu-kun, I think these Games are going to be different. The president is going to make sure of that."

Osamu shakes his head, his gaze firm, "I don't care, do whatever ya can. Rintarou lives, not me."

When he returns home he finds Atsumu sitting on the doorstep, hugging his knees to his chest as he stares up at the gloomy sky. He meets his eyes, guilt and regret swirling within them.

"We should've gone when ya said," he murmurs, his voice weak and barely there.

Osamu pulls him into a hug and spends the rest of the day with him on the doorstep. Nene joins them not long after, and he doesn't question her red-rimmed eyes which are so similar to his, to Atsumu's, to Kita's.

He never hears from Suna.

|———|

A few days later, he's escorted to the square with Peacekeepers flanking both his sides, cutting off every means of escape for him and the rest of the victors of District Twelve. The blank look on his face is only just a front to convince the people of his district, to convince himself.

He sees Alisa standing behind the microphone stand, just like last year. But the smile on her lips does not match the rueful look in her cyan eyes, nor does it reach them as she stares at him from afar.

When he stands next to her and faces the crowd, he sees his family amongst those who have come to watch the Reaping. Nene with her hair done beautifully, adorning a dress better than the one last year. Atsumu with a stoic face, but red-rimmed eyes that contrast them.

Osamu has to bite his lip to keep himself from tearing up.

"Welcome, welcome, as we celebrate the 75th Anniversary and 3rd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games," she starts, looking over the crowd of gloomy and grim faces. "And now, we may pick our tributes."

She turns, making her way over to the males' bowl since there were no names inside the females' bowl. Osamu feels his stomach churn with unease as he watches her reach into the bowl and pull out two cards.

Her eyebrows furrow, confusion flashing in her eyes as she turns to look at Commander Takeuchi standing close to her, "Wait, why are there only—"

"Get on with it," he growls, face twisting in irritation. And if Osamu didn't know any better, the look in his eyes seem like a warning.

"No, there's a mistake, there are only—"

"I said get on with it, woman!" he snaps, making her flinch out of shock and surprising everyone else who is present. His tone and suspicious behavior cause red flags to go off in Osamu's mind.

He has half a mind to stalk over to him and sock him in the eye, but with the Peacekeepers surrounding him like predators and who knows the number of cameras hidden around here, he forces himself to bite his tongue and stay quiet.

Alisa hesitantly walks over to the microphone stand, looking down at the cards in her hands with Commander Takeuchi staring at her like a hawk. She swallows nervously as she unfolds the cards, but still manages to put on a smile.

"The tributes from District Twelve for the 75th Hunger Games are..." she pauses, bottom lip quivering. "M-Miya Osamu and Suna Rintarou."

Kita is quick to turn, meeting Osamu's eyes, "I volun—"

He's cut off when a Peacekeeper grabs him by his arm and pulls him back, dragging him past the open doors of the Justice Building without giving him a second to react.

"Wait, this wasn't part of the plan!" Alisa yelps, just as she gets dragged away by a Peacekeeper as well. "Unhand me this instant! What are you all doing?!" she shrieks in bewilderment. 

Suna is quickly taken away as well, even if he struggles in their hold. The two Peacekeepers holding onto him don't budge, acting like rocks as they pull him away, ignoring his protests and thrashing. 

Commander Takeuchi has his arm in a tight grip the moment he turns to look back at his family, meeting their equally scared and shocked gazes. "I have to say goodbye!" he hisses, trying to yank his arm out of his grasp.

"New plan, get straight to the train," the man says lowly, tightening his grip to the point it turns painful.

He's dragged behind the doors faster than he could speak, and no matter how hard he tries, he couldn't pull his arm out of the soldier's death grip. As the doors close, he could hear his sister desperately screaming out his name, struggling in Atsumu's hold.

"Goodbye!" he cries out, right before he's pulled behind a corner.

The doors finally shut, cutting off his sister's voice.

During the train ride to the Capitol, he's deathly silent in his seat, along with everyone else. The atmosphere is grim and heavy with tension. Nobody dares to break it, not when their hearts are still racing and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

To see Alisa without a smile is like seeing the sky without a sun, odd, unusual, out of place. It's almost sad, too. Because Alisa was able to smile during every dark times he saw her go through, but now... it's as if she never did it once.

"He rigged it," Kita is the first one to break the silence. His nails dig into his palms when he clenches his fists, anger flashing in his eyes, "He knew that if it had gone fairly, one of you wouldn't be in the Games."

Just when Kita thought he could've saved one of them. Just when the opportunity arose, it was ripped away from him once again, just as his fingers brushed it. Gone, then and there, before he could've even blinked.

"Your card wasn't in the bowl," Alisa confesses, causing everyone to turn to look at her. She bites her bottom lip, her eyes brimming with tears, "I wasn't able to address that."

"He planned all of this, but he knew he couldn't stop any volunteers if it had come down to it, so he chose the dirty way," Suna concludes, his eyes hollow. He hangs his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips, "Wow, and here I thought things couldn't get any worse."

Osamu sucks in a deep breath, trying to keep himself from breaking then and there, "Didn't he want me all this time? Why secure Rin's position in it too?"

"I could only suppose he wants the two of you gone, since you are like a pair," Kita answers, meeting Osamu's eyes and sending him an apologetic look. "He thinks you will cause one problem after another."

Suna's jaw clenches in rage, his eyes narrowing as he looks off to the side. "Two birds with one stone, huh?" he murmurs, staring at the changing scenery as the train speeds past a meadow.

Their mentor slowly nods. "Two birds with one stone," he confirms, trailing off.

It falls silent again, the four of them zoning out on reality and instead focusing on the storms in their minds. However, it's Alisa who breaks the silence this time with a clap of her hands, her usual smile on her lips again, if not, just a little weak.

"Before I begin, I had a thought," she says, looking at each of them in the eye and making sure they are listening. She looks at Osamu last, and reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, "Osamu has his gold Mockingjay pin, and I have my necklace."

She turns to face the other two, a firm gaze in her cyan eyes, "I'm going to get you two boys something gold."

"And why do you plan to do so?" Kita questions, raising a brow. Suna, too, looks just as curious as him. Though Osamu already knows what she's planning on doing.

Alisa gives him a small smile, fiddling with her necklace, "As a token, of course. To show them that we are a _team_ , and they can't just—"

When she falters, Osamu reaches out to grasp her hand, making her look at him. He gives her a smile, one that conveys the entirety of his gratefulness and sincerity, "Thank you, Alisa."

The smile that she gives him in return makes his heart swell as her eyes practically twinkle in happiness. Kita and Suna find themselves smiling at the sight, and the tension noticeably lightens.

Their mentor reaches out, joining his hand with hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as well. Suna leans forward when Kita backs away, grasping her hand with a trembling grip, "... Thank you."

He also receives a smile in return, one so sweet and warm it makes him feel warm too. A motherly smile that he hadn't received in such a long time.

"Alright," she takes a deep breath, composing herself since it's time to get serious yet again. Her smile drops, and her gaze turns stoic, "Now, everything will be different... because it's a Quarter Quell."

"The Capitol has spared no expense— a new training center, new tribute living quarters, and of course.. a very special arena."

Osamu finds that easy to believe the moment he steps into the glass elevator for the new living quarters. The glass walls allow him to see far and wide as they quickly rise into the air. The Capitol's technology is sometimes quite astounding.

_"But this year you'll be facing other victors, Capitol favorites— smart, cunning, skilled... and they all know one another. You two are the outsiders."_

|———|

"I want you two to forget everything you think you know about the Games," Kita tells them as they sit around the dinner table. He picks up a glass, pouring some tea into it, "Last year was child's play. This year, you're dealing with all the experienced killers."

Suna sets down his cutlery, leaning into his chair, "Alright, what's that mean for us?"

Kita approaches them, regarding him with a firm gaze, "That means you're going to need to have some allies."

"Okay, I think that if we—" their mentor raises his hand, cutting him off.

"You're not the problem here, Suna-kun," he sends a sharp gaze to Osamu, who already has a sour look on his face as he looks up at the older man, eyes flashing with disagreement.

Osamu shook his head, stubborn, "No."

"Look," Kita's tone changes to a more reasoning one, taking a seat next to him. "You're starting at a disadvantage, most of these people have been friends for years—"

"That just puts us higher on our kill list," the younger scowls, but quickly bites his tongue when he receives a stern look from Kita, his warning clear in his hazel eyes.

The older man pinches the bridge of his nose and releases a long-suffering sigh, "Do it your own way, but I know these people. You do it alone and their first move is going to be to hunt you down, both of you."

Suna places a hand on his shoulder, a frown on his lips, "'Samu, c'mon. It won't hurt to give it a try."

Gritting his teeth, Osamu looks back at Kita, eyes narrowing with anger, "How could any of us even trust each other?"

"It's not about trust," Kita answers, his gaze firm and voice steady as he speaks. "It's about staying alive."

"First of all, Ozaki Koji and Ayumi, brother and sister, District 1."

Kita begins his briefing, pointing at the two people displayed on the hologram in front of them. "They won back-to-back Games, Capitol favourites, lots of sponsors, they _will_ be lethal."

With a click of a button, the image changes and two men appear on screen, this time from District 2. One of them is a tall, green-haired man with a very strong build who looks as if he could fling Osamu like a ragdoll.

The other is noticeably smaller and younger too. He has black hair and slightly uneven bangs, but his eyes definitely betray the young, boyish look he gives off with his features. However, Osamu couldn't bring himself to believe he is an experienced killer.

"And the other half of the Career pack— Ushijima Wakatoshi and Goshiki Tsutomu," Kita tells them, pursing his lips. "Though I'd say they'd be a little more... negotiable compared to the siblings, but still lethal."

Osamu stares up at Goshiki, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, "He looks no older than 17."

"He won the Games a year before you, at the age of 15," the older man replies, surprising him. "Only a year older than the youngest winner who we will get to soon."

Apparently, someone else won the Games at an even _younger_ age than 15 years old. 

The screen changes yet again, now to a man with a funny bedhead standing on screen next to a smaller man with bleached, shoulder-length hair. Their gazes are feline-like, their pupils similar to that of a cat's.

"Kuroo Tetsurou and Kenma Kozume, not really fighters but brilliant and... odd," Suna stifles a chuckle at his words, but Kita pays no mind to him, continuing to speak. "Real tech-savvy, Kuroo won his Games by electrocuting six tributes at once."

The next person who appears on the hologram is someone whom Osamu recognizes, simply because he'd heard about the rumors of his _secluded_ _business_. A man with dark brown hair and similar coloured eyes that glinted with a silent type of danger while his smile is full of charisma. _Only for charming ladies,_ he assumes.

"Oikawa Tooru, right?" he raises a brow, eyeing the smirk on the young man's face with a blank look.

Nodding, Kita continues on, looking back at the screen, "Yes, he won his Games at 14, youngest ever. Extremely—"

"Humble?" Suna remarks, an amused smile on his lips as Kita shoots him a look that lacks the same mirth as he did, a reaction he expected but it's still worth it to make fun of him a little.

Their mentor shakes his head, "No, he's a peacock, a preener. But he's the Capitol darling. They love him here. He's charming, smart, and very skilled at combat. _Especially_ in water."

Huffing, Suna crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the grinning man waving to his district on-screen with a narrowed-eye look, "Any weaknesses?"

"Only one, his sister— Oikawa Hanami," they watch as the camera pans from him to another man with spiky brown hair starting to shake uncontrollably the moment his name is called despite the strong face he puts on.

But a woman— with the exact same features of Oikawa, dark brown hair and eyes— raises her hand, volunteering in his place. She looks mature and much older than Osamu but bound to a wheelchair, with one of her legs in a brace.

"She volunteered for Iwaizumi Hajime, another tribute," Kita explains, a slight frown tugging on his lips as his eyes never leave the screen. "Hanami was his mentor and basically raised him too. If he's trying to protect her in any way, it exposes him."

"A guy like that has to know she has a very low chance of making it judging from her state," Osamu comments, arms crossed over his chest. "I bet when it really comes down to it, he won't protect her."

Kita's frown only deepens, looking at him with a wistful look, "Well, Osamu-kun. I hope when she goes, she goes quickly. She's actually a wonderful lady."

Osamu suddenly feels guilty saying that ever so nonchalantly, seeing the sad expression in his mentor's eyes as he turns to look back at the two siblings on the screen. Hanami is smiling as she hugs her little brother, but she turns to face the camera and sends an icy and stoic look that sends chills down his spine. It even looks as if she's passing a threat to a certain someone.

|———|

The elevator doors open and Osamu steps out onto the gravel ground, his boots thudding quietly. He walks past the Peacekeepers standing guard on either side of the elevator, making his way over to his carriage.

"Osamu!" his eyes snap up upon hearing a multitude of voices calling out his name, spotting the citizens of the Capitol waving to him with bright smiles and excited looks decorating their faces.

He looks away just as quickly, the look of indifference on his face never changing as he continues walking over to the carriage. Reaching out, he gently trails his hand down the horse's neck, sighing, "How did we get here, huh?"

"Osamu-chan!"

A familiar voice calls out his name and he turns, his gray eyes locking with a pair of dark brown ones that he recognizes immediately. He resists the urge to groan, but doesn't let his discomfort show on his face, "Hello, Oikawa-san."

The victor walks forward, throwing what seems to be a sugar cube into the air and catching it while Osamu nearly chokes at the sight of his... revealing outfit. He's practically shirtless, letting the entirety of his torso be shown to the world.

"You want a sugar cube?" he asks him, holding it out to him with a raised brow. "I mean, it's supposed to be for the horses but who cares about them, right? They've got years to eat sugar whereas you and I— Well, if we see something sweet, we'd better grab it."

Osamu gives him a tight smile, shaking his head, "No thanks, but I would love to borrow that outfit someday."

Oikawa grins devilishly, giving him a quick once-over. He hums, mischief flashing in his eyes, "You look pretty terrifying in that get-up, what happened to the adorable little boy trunks?"

"I outgrew them," he mutters lowly, a scowl threatening to make his way onto his face. 

"You certainly did," Oikawa purrs, his smile only growing wider despite Osamu's gaze sharpening into a glare. He feigns a frown, "A shame about this Quell thing... Now _you,_ you could've made out like a bandit in the Capitol jewels, money— _anything_ you wanted."

Rolling his eyes, Osamu scoffs, "Well, I don't like jewels and I have more money than I need right now so... What did you do with all your wealth anyway?"

The man chuckles, shaking his head, "I haven't dealt with anything as common as money in years."

Osamu's eyes narrow slightly as he raises a brow at him quizzically, "Well then, how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?"

There's a flash of interest in Oikawa's dark brown hues upon hearing his words. He steps closer, getting a little too much into his personal space for his liking, but Osamu still manages to refrain from pushing him away.

"With secrets," he whispers, the sly smile never leaving his lips. Tilting his head, he stares into Osamu's eyes with an indefinable gaze, "What about you, Messenger of Inari? Any secrets worth my time?"

"I'm an open book," Osamu answers with a shrug, smiling wryly. "Everybody always seems to know my secrets before I know them myself, so I wouldn't be worth yer time, I'm afraid."

Oikawa nods, his gaze turning piercing, causing Osamu's stomach to churn in discomfort. "Unfortunately, I think that's true," he hums.

Over his shoulder, Osamu spots Suna and Aran exiting the elevator, making their way over to them. Suna's eyes are trained on him, concern flashing in them as he glances at Oikawa's back and then at him again.

"I'm sorry about your relationship with Suna-chan," the other man whispers into his ear, making him stiffen as his breath catches in his throat at the sudden voice near his ear. A dark smile graces his lips, unlike the previous one he wore, "It'll be a shame if only one of you came out of the arena."

Oikawa tosses the sugar cube into his mouth, biting down on it, "Have a good day."

With that, he backs away, turning around to face Suna as his smile turns into something more easygoing, losing its sinister glint. He tips his head as a greeting, "Suna-chan."

"Oikawa," Suna returns the greeting simply, his eyes following him as he walks away before he averts his gaze back to Osamu, raising a brow. "What'd he want?"

Osamu smiles, albeit a little weakly, "To know all my secrets."

Suna gives him a grin, "Well, good thing I already know all of them then. Means I beat him to it."

_"Tributes mount up, tributes mount up."_

The electronic voice cuts their conversation short, and Aran walks forward, holding a small button in his hand, "No waving and smiling this time, I want you both to look straight ahead as if the audience of this whole event is beneath you."

"That should be easy," Osamu replies, secretly delighted. After all, it's one of the things he can do best. He doesn't think he has the energy to smile and wave at the crowd at all today. 

Their stylist hands the button over to him, nodding firmly, "Press this when you're ready, and good luck."

After getting onto the chariot, Osamu lets out a sigh as he turns to look ahead of him, trying to calm down his racing heart. He's done this before, there's nothing to be scared of.

Hearing his sigh, Suna's golden eyes immediately move to look at him, flashing with mischief as he gives him a teasing smile, "Need me to hold your hand again like last time?"

Osamu gives him a look, before scoffing, "I'm sure I'll do fine without it, I'm just preparing myself before going out."

"Is that so?" his friend lets out a chuckle, the cheery sound lifting his mood a little. "Well then, my offer still stands if you change your mind."

They look away from each other when their chariot begins to move, the horses pulling them forward. As they approach the open, Osamu subtly weaves his fingers with Suna's, pretending to not notice how the other's lips quirk up in an amused smile.

The audience greets them with deafening cheers the moment they enter their line of sight, joyfully screaming out their names among other things from their seats. Confetti snows in the air, raining down on them as they proceed through the parade.

When they approach the front of the walkway, he locks eyes with President Hinata standing on the podium, watching him with a smile that Osamu knows is just a front to hide his true emotions.

Feeling anger flare in his chest at the sight, Osamu presses the button hidden in his hand, making his and Suna's costumes erupt into flames, earning delighted and surprised sounds from the crowd while the president simply raises a brow.

Just like last time, their bodies remain totally unharmed, courtesy of Aran's amazing talent. His shoulders aren't as stiffened compared to his previous experience at the parade, mostly because he now trusts his stylist's capabilities and the fact the fire is albeit realistic, but completely fake. Remembering the instructions prior given to him, Osamu tips his chin up, facing the crowd confidently with an aloof look on his face. Glancing to his side from the corner of his eye for a moment, he catches a glimpse of Suna doing the same.

Tuning out Lev's voice distantly booming in his ear through the microphone, Osamu keeps his eyes fixated on President Hinata, watching the way the older man smiles at what he sees, seemingly in amusement, which only serves to fuel Osamu's rage. 

Instead of enthusiastically waving to the audience to appear more welcoming and friendlier like what the other tributes are doing, Osamu and Suna's indifferent expressions remain unchanged, and their fingers are still intertwined between them. Combined with their eye-catching outfits they seem to stand out from the rest, as the crowd starts cheerfully chanting their names in support.

The twelve chariots circle a round-about, the sound of the trotting of horses overlapped by the audience's deafening cheers. Osamu's gaze stays on the president standing at the podium above them for a few seconds longer before he finally glances away, staring ahead to where his chariot is drawn by the black horses.

Coincidentally, he looks up for a brief moment and meets Suna's eyes, silently exchanging a look they both understand well.

When the parade is over and they're finally allowed to get off the chariot, away from the eyes of President Hinata and the citizens of the Capitol, Kita greets them with a clap of his hands, "Well done, you two." he comments. "Way to make friends out there." 

"We learnt from the best," Suna responds. 

Kita disregards his witty remark, turning around to lead them elsewhere. "Let's get that makeup off you," he says. "And then we can talk about the other tributes." 

"These tributes are crazy," Osamu mutters, recalling the other tributes at the Reaping events in their respective districts he saw on-screen, along with his odd conversation with Oikawa earlier. 

"Not all of them." Kita remarks calmly, nodding his head as a short greeting to the Peacekeepers guarding the elevator as they enter. Just before the doors close someone else strides in, facing all three of them. 

The man is obviously a fellow tribute, considering the masquerade mask on his face and his extravagant get-up, donning an all-green outfit, the light shade of it resembling nature and plantlife. He smiles at them with a slight tilt of his head and an arch of his eyebrow. "Well, you guys look amazing." he comments. 

"Thank you," Osamu replies, smiling tightly at him.

"Though, I think my stylist went a little too far trying to bring out my _natural_ beauty with nature itself because I'm from District 7, Lumber," he sighs softly, pushing a few bangs out of his face. "I would've liked it better if she went for a simpler look. This is not as comfortable as it seems."

Kita directs a polite smile to the young man in front of him, "Either way I'm sure you left an impression on the crowd during the parade, Akaashi-kun."

"I sure hope so, because this costume wouldn't be doing its job if I didn't," he replies with a slight sarcastic lilt to his tone as he takes off the mask on his face, and if his blue eyes weren't distracting before, they sure as hell are now. "So, how does it feel to have the whole world eyeing you like a piece of meat?"

If Suna's golden hues are similar to that of lost riches and sunken treasures, then the shade of blue in Akaashi's eyes are reminiscent of a dark, starless night sky, stretching far and wide with no signs of ending.

Osamu frowns, rolling his eyes, "I wouldn't say I had the whole world's eyes on me, much less eye me like a piece of meat."

"I find that quite hard to believe. Are you saying you didn't see how all of the cameras were on you and how the everyone was chanting your name?" Akaashi inquires dryly, tilting his head. "Even I had difficulty drowning their voices out."

The elevator dings when it reaches the seventh floor and the doors sharply open, cutting their conversation short. He turns to look at them once more, letting a tight-lipped smile curve his lips, "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you all. Let's do it again sometime."

And with that, he exits the elevator, disappearing behind a corner within a blink.

"Pleasure meeting you too," their mentor replies, before turning to face his juniors who seemed surprised by the interaction. He simply smiles, "Akaashi Keiji, District 7. He's a force to be reckoned with if you don't make him an ally. Let's talk about that upstairs."

As the elevator continues to ascend, Osamu is lost in the thoughts running wild in his mind. After meeting some of the tributes in person, he finally realizes that the upcoming Games will be very, _very_ different from the previous ones... in a bad way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little question: who's your fav character atm?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! we aren't dead yet!! please accept this chapter uwu

The next day comes as quickly as he blinks, and now he's standing right in front of the training room. The tense atmosphere feels heavy on his shoulders, but he takes in a deep breath and wills himself to approach the doors of the room, which promptly open for him when he nears it.

"Remember, Osamu, today's about making allies," Suna reminds him as they walk into the training room, eyeing him with a sharp gaze. He grimaces when he gets greeted with the sight of a tribute throwing up, his stomach churning in disgust.

Osamu is rendered speechless for a brief moment, taken aback by what had just happened. "So far, I'm not overwhelmed by our choices," he replies after the initial shock has worn off, glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye.

Suna lets out a sigh, shoulders sagging as he scours the room and the tributes scattered around the stations, "I guess we just try to figure out who we trust the least and work our way backwards from there."

With that, they continue to advance further into the room. Osamu passes by Koji, who throws a couple of knives at the animated holograms in the training simulator, hitting all of his targets in their heads. His sister tosses him another knife, before turning to chuck hers at the holograms in perfect synchronization with her brother.

He makes himself look away, and his eyes land on Akaashi's figure a couple of feet away. The black-haired man seems to be practicing by himself in a separate area. His movements are swift as he swings his axe repeatedly, before ultimately slamming it down onto the ground with a harsh thud. His blue eyes meet Osamu's yet again, and the look in them sends shivers down Osamu's spine.

Nevertheless, he walks away onto another station, this time where another of the Careers are occupying. Ushijima looks deeply focused as he lets his spear rest in his palm, before hurling it at the holograms which appear out of thin air with record speed. The weapon pierces through the orange figures easily, rendering them into a couple small orange blocks before they disperse. 

He turns around, making eye contact with Osamu as if he knew he was behind him watching. Thanks to his smothering gaze, which is also paired with his immense height and built body, Osamu feels small when standing in front of him, even more so when he's the subject of his stare.

Osamu breaks the eye contact, gulping as he moves on. This time, he stops at where Goshiki is sparring with a instructor. The black-haired boy's staff comes in contact with the instructor's a couple times before he side-steps and does a swing at the instructor's head. However, it misses when the instructor ducks and backes away at the last minute. Goshiki uses the back of his hand to wipe away some sweat before letting a feral smile decorate his face, fangs bared.

From the corner of his eye, Osamu sees the tributes from District 3 trying to light a fire using some twigs and grass. Key word being trying. They seem to be having trouble getting a spark. Compared to everyone else, they seem to be the most normal at the moment, so he makes his way over to them.

"Friction generates heat," he hears the tribute with the funny bedhead say as he repeatedly rubs the twig in his hand. "Heat generates fire, in theory."

"Ya should move your hands downwards," Osamu quips, gaining their attention. "And... faster too."

The tribute with bleached shoulder-length hair flinches at his sudden arrival, but the other doesn't look all too fazed, only staring up at him with a blank look in his catlike eyes. Ignoring their gazes, Osamu crouches down next to them, demonstrating what he told them to do.

Kuroo shares a look with his partner before deciding to listen to Osamu. Not a minute later, a wisp of smoke rises from the grass, earning delighted gasps from the both of them.

"A little brute force..." Kuroo's partner, Kenma, finally speaks, surprising Osamu with how soft and gentle his voice is. 

"Is always helpful," Kuroo hums, looking at Osamu with a grin. "Thank you."

Kenma's eyes move up, becoming locked on something in the distance. He blinks, "... By the corner of the table."

Kuroo turns his head, looking over his shoulder and in the direction Kenma is. His eyes light up with interest, while Osamu's gray hues only flash with a look of confusion, wondering what it is that they can see but he can't.

There's only Tendou Satori and a bunch of other government officials on the balcony enjoying the buffet while the Head Gamemaker is standing at the front, dark red eyes roaming around the room while his signature smirk tugs on his lips.

"Tendou?" Osamu tilts his head, glancing back at the two tributes.

Kenma shakes his head, "No, next to him."

Another smile grows on Kuroo's lips, this time it looks amused, "Force field."

Osamu's brows furrow as he looks back at the balcony, squinting to see if there's truly a force field there. However, he couldn't pick up on anything, but the two tributes seem to easily see it. "How could you tell?" he asks, the pinch between his brows growing more prominent. 

"The shimmering... top left hand side," the black-haired man answers, reaching out to nudge his head to the side when he still couldn't see it. "Look, there. You see it?"

Osamu's eyes widen when he sees something that looks similar to the design of glass, except more translucent than it seems. He gapes at it, "Looks like glass."

"To separate us and them," Kenma comments, making him look back at the shorter tribute.

The memory of him shooting an arrow at the late Head Gamemaker from last year flashing in his mind for a brief second. _Maybe that's why they decided to add it_ , he thinks to himself.

Chuckling, he looks back at it over his shoulder. He huffs, "Probably my fault, I shot an arrow at them last year."

"Electromagnetic," Kuroo mutters, earning a confused look from Osamu.

"How can ya tell?"

His oblivious question elicits laughter from the two tributes, who share a look with each other while Osamu stares at them, completely bewildered. He raises a brow, smiling nervously, "Is... it obvious or something?"

"Well, Miya," the taller black-haired man gives him a bemused look, trying to stifle his laughter with his hand. His eyes turn a little mischievous, a dangerous edge seen in his grin, "They might as well have a sign."  
  
Kenma gestures to their surroundings. "Look around you, all the holograms, the lights—every now and then they flicker, why?" he inquires, looking back at Osamu with a raised brow, even though the knowing look in his eyes make it seem as if he already knows the answer.

Then, it clicks.

"Because the force field is taking up too much energy," he murmurs, looking back at him with surprised look.

Kenma nods, giving a small smile, "There's always a flaw in the system."

With nothing else left to talk about, Osamu stands up, returning Kenma's smile before walking away from them. He spots Hanami at the crafting table not so far away, seemingly immersed in making something. He quietly makes his way over to her, peeking at her craft over her shoulder.

"That's beautiful," he compliments, making her look up at him. He pressed his lips into a thin line, hesitating for a brief moment. _Make allies, Osamu. Ya have to make allies._

He pushes away the reluctance, offering the woman a small smile, "I saw you volunteer for that boy, it was really brave."

Hanami chuckles, smiling sweetly at him as she places a hand on her chest, moved by his comment, "If I had to do it again, I would. Iwaizumi-kun is someone who is very dear to my little brother. He means the world to him."

"Is that so?" Osamu suddenly remembers his rather unpleasant encounter with said little brother a couple hours ago.

"If I recall, Miya-kun," the woman begins, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You also volunteered for a little girl, didn't you?"

He nods, his eyes becoming a little sorrowful at the mention of his baby sister. "Yes, my sister, Nene," he swallows thickly, watching how her gaze becomes a little sympathetic. Osamu looks away from her, averting his gaze to her unfinished fish-hook, "If ya, um... If ya teach me how to make a hook like that, I can teach ya how to hunt," he clears his throat, giving her another smile.

Hanami smiles appreciatively, "That sounds like a deal, Miya-kun."

|———|

Osamu slings the quiver over his shoulder before choosing a bow from the ones hung on the rack. He walks into the glass room, hearing the doors close behind him as a projected screen appears before him. He taps on a couple buttons, picking out his difficulty and setting up some things.

The screen disappears and he makes his way over to the center of the room, reaching over his shoulder to pull out an arrow from his quiver just as the lights start to dim, making the room turn darker. He brings his bow up, waiting for the first target to appear.

A figure appears behind him, charging at him with an axe held in his hand. Osamu lets his arrow fly into his chest, hitting it dead center. He pulls out another arrow and turns, spotting an archer up on the second level just as he releases the bow-string.

Hearing footsteps from behind again, he quickly looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening slightly when he sees another projected figure running towards him. It throws its spear but Osamu spins around, narrowly avoiding it and fires his arrow into middle of its chest.

His eyes move up, seeing a target run past the pillars on the second floor. He swiftly arms his bow, trailing after it for a few seconds before letting go when he sees an opportunity.

Two more targets appear before him, and he quickly shoots the first one down. The second one throws its axe at him, causing him to drop in order to avoid it. He somersaults, immediately pulling out another arrow and letting it fly into its chest the moment he gets up.

Looking up, he sees a target carrying what seems to a trident, reminding him of the victor who used a trident to end the lives of his fellow tributes and seize victory. It leaps into the air, weapon aimed at him. Osamu doesn't hesitate, easily releasing the bow-string and letting an arrow fly into its chest.

Orange blocks rain down on him, and the simulator finally ends. He's panting, but he feels a little bit satisfied, since he managed to get through everything without getting hit once. Upon hearing someone clapping for him he quickly turns around, not expecting to see everyone standing near the door, watching him.

His breath catches in his throat when he locks eyes with Oikawa, who seems fairly impressed. However, Hanami looks proud and amazed as she beams at him with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. Kuroo and Kenma are also among the onlookers. The former seems to be the one clapping for him.

When he meets Suna's familiar golden eyes, he finally relaxes. The black-haired boy nods, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Good news," Kita announces as he walks into the common room after dinner, making Osamu and Suna look back at him from where they're sitting on the couch. Their mentor gives them a grin, "At least half of the tributes want you as an ally."

Suna shrugs lightly, chuckling, "Well, they saw him shoot."

Kita crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Osamu, "Well, Osamu-kun, you got your pick of the litter."

"I want Kuroo and Kenma," he answers, to which Kita doesn't oppose.

"Akaashi calls them 'Nuts' and 'Volts'," Suna hums, somehow managing to keep a straight face whilst saying all that.

Kita nods, seemingly approving of his choice, "Well, okay, good. Now, who else?"

Osamu bit his bottom lip, hesitating a little. He's sure the two of them wouldn't approve of this one _._ "Hanami," he mutters, earning sighs from both his mentor and partner. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Alright, fine, then no one."

The older man glances at Suna, before letting out a sigh, "I'll tell them you're still making up your mind."

After two weeks of grueling training, it's finally time to evaluate them again. Having done this before, Osamu is not as nervous as he was last year. He's deathly quiet in his seat next to Suna, lost in the thoughts running through his mind. Maybe he should just use a bow and shoot all the targets correctly, seeing as there's a force field protecting them now.

The room is fairly quiet with the exeption of murmurs coming from a couple tributes. Osamu blinks, snapping out of his trance. His eyes roam around the room, trying to listen in on their hushed conversations, but their voices prove to be too soft for him to catch anything.

Oikawa's extremely focused with whatever it is that he's telling his sister, while some other tributes are talking to each other instead of discussing with their partners. There're also a few people who choose to remain silent, including him and Suna, waiting patiently for their turn.

" _District 3, Kuroo Tetsurou, report for individual assessment._ "

Kuroo stands up the moment he hears his name being called, giving Kenma a comforting smile and a soft pat on his cheek before walking over to the door. It opens, and he disappears behind it when it shuts again.

Osamu inhales shakily, turning to look at Suna with frightened eyes, "Rin, how are we gonna kill these people?"

Suna blinks, looking lost, "... I don't know, 'Samu."

"I don't know."

Not long after, it was just him all by himself in the room. Suna was called not so long ago, and he should be returning soon... hopefully. He's starting to become restless in his seat, palms becoming clammy with sweat the longer he sits and wait. 

" _District 12, Miya Osamu, report for individual assessment._ "

Osamu stands up, letting out a quiet breath before making his way over to the door. It slides open and he sees Suna making his way back, his jacket clutched in one hand. Oddly, he has a worried look in his eyes. He looks away when they pass by each other, glancing at something over his shoulder before momentarily locking eyes with him again.

The exchange makes a sense of worry settle in Osamu's stomach as he continues to make his way to the center of the room. But as he gets closer, he finally sees what Suna was staring at. His steps start to slow, eyes moving to stare at the mural of a girl too painfully familiar to Osamu.

It looks as if it was carefully painted, seeing that so much care went into her features to the point it almost looks like the real thing. He lets out a shuddering breath, a tear rolling down his cheek as the memories flash in his mind once again, appearing before his eyes like it was just yesterday when she passed in his arms.

"Miya-kun," Tendou's voice snaps him out of his daze like a slap to his face. He turns his head, slowly looking at the Head Gamemaker who stands on the balcony, staring at him with a stoic face, no ounce of sympathy seen in his cold eyes. "You have ten minutes to present your chosen skill," he tells him, tone indifferent.

Osamu sets his jaw, feeling a burst of anger in his chest, like a flame coming to life with an explosion. He looks down at Yachi's mural for a few more seconds before tearing his eyes away. Without another second to waste, he got to work. He fetches some rope and a mannequin, then drags the cart of paint over to his designated area.

He throws the mannequin onto the metal table, flipping it onto its chest. Grabbing a bowl of paint, he begins writing Hasegawa's name on it and decorating its face with his facial features. Then, he grabs his rope and wraps it around the mannequin's throat, knotting it into what looks like a noose.

Osamu throws the other end of the rope up, making it loop over something high up before grabbing it as it falls again. He pulls harshly, hoisting the mannequin up as a couple people start to murmur, staring at him with frightened and shocked eyes. Tendou, however, looks amused, judging by the smirk on his lips.

He ties the rope to the table leg, suspending the mannequin in the air and making sure it's tight enough not to become lose. He turns around, scowling at the officials watching him with gaping mouths. Bending at the waist, he gives them the exact same arrogant bow he did last year, with no hint of respect or fear.

Just hatred.

And hopefully, this mannequin with Hasegawa's name written on it will convey the fact that it could be them taking his place too.

|———|

Lev's anthem blares as the platform he's standing on starts to rise onto the stage. He immediately puts on his usual talk-show host grin as he makes his way over to the front of the stage. The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly at his entrance, making his smile grow wider. Even after all these months, Osamu still couldn't fathom whether it's real or fake.

"Thank you, thank you!" he does a bow, laughing heartily."Thank you for being here tonight, on the eve of the 75th Hunger Games!"

His words elicit another round of cheers and applause, accompanied with a few whistles here and there. Lev smiles, looking over the sea of people, "We have never seen anything like this, and we will never see anything like it again."

"Because tonight, on this stage, twenty-four of Panem's brightest stars will vie for the ultimate crown— tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts, our final opportunity to express our love," he pauses, his smile slowly faltering. "And heartbreakingly— to say goodbye to all but _one_."

As a couple members of the audience react sadly, Lev only lets out a quiet sigh. "What a night," he murmurs, but a grin quickly returns to his face. "Let's hear it!"

The crowd perks up again, immediately taken by Lev's enthusiam and positivity as they cheer wildly.

"It's so exciting!" he shouts, another laugh leaving his lips as he raises his hand.

Osamu arches a brow at the outfit on the mannequin, gleaming in all of its white, black and gold glory. He turns, looking to Aran, "What is this, a prince's uniform or something?"

"Suna-kun made a request, and Alisa was more than happy to fulfill it," his stylist sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "That and... the president also caught wind of it, so he chose the outfit for you himself and insists that you wore this one. But I made a few alterations."

"Did Rin also make a request from ya?" he questions, stepping onto the stand.

Aran simply smiles, holding up a make-up brush, "You'll find out when you walk out of here like a different person."

Lev's voice is heard in the background from the television as he interviews the siblings from District 1, _"You two made the Games a family affair, you became everyone's brother and sister. I don't know how we're going to let you go,"_ the host sighs, before holding the microphone to Koji.

The man leans in, an earnest look in his eyes. It looks rather fake, in Osamu's opinion. _"We're not going by choice,"_ he says firmly, looking at the audience when they audibly cry out sadly _. "You are our family, and I don't see how anyone can love us better."_

Lev nods, bringing the microphone back, _"So sweet, so sweet— oh, are you alright, Ayumi-san?"_

She sobs, giving him a trembling smile, _"I'm sorry."_

_"It's alright."_

_"I just can't stop crying—"_

Osamu rolls his eyes, scoffing as Aran does a few finishing touches on his outfit, "God, does anybody actually believe this?" He flexes his fingers around a little. The suit is not restricting but that doesn't mean it's not uncomfortable either. Maybe it's because of the expensive fabric, since he feels itchy at some places.

Kita sips on his juice, shrugging lightly. "Apparently, everybody," he answers with a sigh, gesturing to his prep team behind him. Osamu looks over his shoulder, and barely surpresses another eye-roll when he sees a couple of them wipe away some tears from their eyes.

Alisa doesn't look fazed, her usual smile on her lips as she stares at the TV, actually looking rather impressed, "She is _very_ good."

"These victors are angry, Osamu," Kita tells him. "They'll say anything to try and stop the Games. I suggest you do the same."

His eyes return to the mirror in front of him, slowly taking in his appearance. He's adorning an outfit that would normally be worn by royalty from back in the olden days, the white, black and gold finery hugging his body perfectly. Attached to his shoulders is a flowing cape long enough to reach the ground and trail behind him.

Osamu blinks, meeting the eyes of his own reflection in the mirror. He purses his lips, slightly taken aback by how much sharper his eyes look with the winged eyeliner Alisa applied for him. He could also see a diamond or two beneath his eyes, twinkling in the light. Silver chain earrings dangle from his earlobes, swaying gently.

 _"Kuroo,"_ Lev's voice catches his attention once again, making his eyes flicker over to the TV screen where Lev is now interviewing the tributes from District 3. _"You have contributed so much to Panem over the years, I don't know who we'll miss more— you or your brain."_

Kuroo gives him a tight smile, glancing at the crowd, _"If the Quarter Quell were written into the law by men, certainly it can be unwritten, no?"_

The host hums, _"Yes... interesting concept."_

A couple moments later, the crowd goes wild at the next person who walks onto the stage, loudly screaming his name. Oikawa flashes a charming smile to the audience, looking dazzling in his ocean blue suit as he approaches the center of the stage, stopping right next to Lev. He blows a kiss and winks, and Osamu swears he sees several people fall out of their seats.

 _"Oikawa-san, I understand that you have a message for somebody out there— a special somebody,"_ Lev chuckles, sending a look of mischief to the audience while Oikawa smiles a little shyly. _"Can we hear it?"_

Oikawa's smile wilts a little, his brown eyes moving to look into the camera as something akin to sorrow flashes in them _. "My love, you have my heart for all eternity,_ " he pauses, gulping. _"If... If I die in that arena, my last thoughts will be of your lips."_

Osamu frowns. He wonders why it seem as if he actually means those words. 

_"We have seen a lot of tears here tonight, but I see no tears in Akaashi-san's eyes,"_ Lev says ominously, turning to look at the tribute standing next to him. _"Akaashi-san, you are angry. Tell me why."_

Akaashi lets out a chuckle, his blue eyes conveying a certain type of silent anger, _"Why, yes. I am angry."_ he says into the microphone, his narrowed eyes and bitter smile making it evident how much he's seething. _"The deal was if I were to win the Hunger Games, I get to live the rest of my life with my family in peace. But now, you want to kill me again."_

Turning away from Lev to look at the audience watching the stage with big eyes, Akaashi laughs humorlessly, _"Well, you know what? Fuck that."_ the swear word that leaves his mouth is so clear and casual it causes the audience to gasp audibly. Akaashi's voice raises just the slightest bit, apparently not able to maintain his cool persona any longer as he unleashes the frustration he had kept hidden within him. _"And fuck everybody that had anything to do with it!"_

 _"Alright then,"_ Lev says, sounding a bit tired as Akaashi's interview ends and his angry footsteps recede behind him. _"Who's next?"_

Osamu looks away from the television screen, gaze settling on Aran's face. "Okay, turn around." the stylist instructs softly. Osamu does as he's told, and Aran does a quick once-over and nods in satisfaction. "I think I'm done."

"What about the twirling?" 

"Save it for the end." Aran answers.

"One minute. Is he ready?" Alisa enters the room, gasping upon laying her eyes on Osamu's outfit. Aran takes a step aside as she approaches Osamu, looking in awe and on the verge of emotional. "Oh, Osamu." she sighs, smiling gently. "You look stunning." 

Returning her smile, he thanks her. Alisa sighs again, placing a hand on his shoulder to lead her out of the dressing room. "Well, let's go show them." her tone is encouraging, and thankfully, it succeeds in lifting Osamu's spirits. Even if it's not by much.

"They're going to adore you, Osamu," Alisa continues to gush. She tails after him, her smile not once leaving her lips as well as the sparkle in her bright eyes. "And there are a lot of sponsors in the audience, so of course, just be your usual self."

Osamu wants to voice out the fact the Capitol probably wouldn't appreciate nor like him acting his usual self, he himself knowing how unlikeable he can be at times. But he keeps his lips shut and just tries to go along with whatever Alisa rambles about, not wishing to concern her anymore. Alisa has the choice to be rude to him and not tolerate his behavior, but she still chooses to be nice and supportive of him. She deserves that much from him.

"Actually," Alisa says after a short pause. "Just be your happier self." she corrects.

Before Osamu can respond, a third presence joins them. "Wow, Akaashi says dryly, gesturing to his outfit. "How extravagant." 

Osamu ignores him. Akaashi's obviously referring to the outfit he has on him. Not only does it look like it belongs on the body of a royal prince, it's paired along with a cape. He thinks it's a bit unnecessary, but Aran and his prep team seem to think it fits the aesthetic. 

The audience's cheers are loud even when heard backstage. Then, Lev's voice booms, _"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome— You know him..."_

_"... As the Messenger of Inari! The victor of last year's Hunger Games, Miya Osamu!"_

The doors automatically open, allowing Osamu to walk through and get a view of the audience clapping and cheering for him. He makes his way towards Lev, wordlessly taking the hand Lev offers him as the other male laughs into his microphone.

Once the cheers die down, Lev clears his throat and speaks. "Now, Miya-san. This is a very big and very emotional night... for all of us. Wouldn't you say?" 

"Don't go crying on me now, Lev."

Lev smiles widely. "I can't make any promises. You know me."

A laugh. "Ya know I wouldn't believe ya even if ya did."

"I love him!" Lev throws his head back laughing, him and the audience apparently enjoying Osamu's humor. "The Messenger of Inari is so cheeky!"

It's a bit admirable how Lev can go from laughing his head off with the audience to schooling his expression into a perfectly neutral one. He does just that, and along with him, the clapping resonating from the crowd stops. "But on a more serious note," Lev adds. "Your outfit looks absolutely amazing tonight.

"My stylist did a great job," Osamu agrees. "Eye-catching, isn't it?" 

"It truly is! I love it! Don't you love it, folks?" Lev turns towards the crowd, to which the audience cheer and clap enthusiastically in reply. It's incredible. It's gorgeous."

"Yeah, in fact, Lev, I have something to show everyone." Osamu smiles, meeting Aran's eyes somewhere in the crowd just as panic stems in his gut. Like last time, it works in calming him down a little. 

Tender music plays as Osamu begins to twirl. The white slacks that hug his legs gradually change colors, going from a pure white to an elegant black before it goes up to the upper part of his clothes, burning up with fake embers to make the attire's transition all the more magnificent. The white cape hanging from his shoulders and billowing behind him start changing as well. Osamu spreads his arms wide, revealing what used to be the cape now turned into a pair of wings. 

"It's got feathers!" Lev stammers, absolutely awestruck. "It's like a... Like a—"

"Like a Mockingjay." Osamu finishes for him. The audience's cheers are deafening as Lev continues to express his agreement with Osamu's statement, before some cameras pan over to where Aran's seated in the crowd, smiling. 

"Your stylist really has outdone himself this time!" Lev cheers. Aran stands up, waving a hand to the crowd applauding for him. Kita is next to him, clapping along and even patting Aran's shoulder. "Hasn't he? What theatricality! Aran-san! Take a bow!" 

Aran bows. Followed by that is more clapping and Lev's chuckles. Just like that, Osamu's interview comes to an end for today.

After stepping onto the podium alongside the other tributes who've finished their interviews, Lev proceeds to announce Suna's name, said male appearing behind the same doors Osamu walked in from. Suna looks incredibly ethereal in his get-up, his princely outfit and design sort of matching Osamu's. The golden-eyed tribute moves to stand beside Lev, patiently waiting for the interview to begin as the crowd cheers excitedly at his arrival. 

"Tell me, Suna-san. How are you and Miya-san doing? The last I got to directly hear about your relationship was our interview back at District 12." Lev dives in to the questions at once, passing the microphone over to Suna. 

Suna smiles, "We've been doing great." he replies evenly. "We want our love to be eternal. Osamu and I, we've been luckier than most. I'm just really glad that we've gotten the chance to be happy together."

The audience awes at Suna's romantic confession. Surprisingly, instead of continuing the interview, Suna abruptly turns around, back facing the crowd and instead facing the podium of tributes, but his eyes remain solely on Osamu standing in the corner, golden hues bearing an unreadable gaze.

"Osamu," Suna calls out gently, a smile gracing his lips. "We first met when we were kids, fourteen years ago on one sunny day, and I dare say that was the best thing that ever happened to me. After knowing you for most of my life, I couldn't imagine anyone more suitable to have by my side. You've made me a better person, and words will never be enough to express how much I cherish and adore you."

His hand sneaks into his pocket, and Suna begins striding towards him. The crowd cheers in excitement and eagerness on what's going to happen next, and it almost feels like Osamu's the only one here who doesn't understand what's happening. A thousand questions are running wild in his head, but Suna still smiles, approaching him slowly.

"If I had to be honest, I've actually been in love with you since the day we locked eyes," Suna admits, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he walks up the steps to the podium. "You probably find that hard to believe, but I'm telling you the truth. The moment you smiled, I knew I was a goner. I couldn't resist you at all, but then again... I've never had much self-control to begin with."   
  
"Yet, I don't regret falling in love with you, and I don't think I ever will. So, with that said.. I have something to ask of you, for a long time now actually."

When he's finally standing before him, Osamu attempts to meet his gaze just to search for any answers in them because they've never discussed about anything like this prior the interviews. This is Suna's interview, and he has no idea why he's involved or what Suna is—

He freezes as Suna gets down on one knee before pulling a small, velvet box out of his pocket. Suna smiles again, lifting the box up towards Osamu and opening it, displaying a shiny, diamond ring inside.. and chaos breaks out then and there. The crowd roars in a mix of shock, horror and delight as Suna opened his mouth, smile as bright as ever.

"Miya Osamu, will you marry me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jean: make his proposal speech romantic as fuck  
> sam: IM TRYING
> 
> fyi it was like past 12am  
> sorry this chapter took so long, we had online classes ‷̗ↂ凸ↂ‴̖
> 
> references for sunaosa's outfits：  
> [osamu's](https://instagram.fkul16-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t51.2885-15/e35/144409983_748152045826556_6341392958300396553_n.jpg?_nc_ht=instagram.fkul16-1.fna.fbcdn.net&_nc_cat=108&_nc_ohc=seYJf3wqEwwAX9XUbjc&tp=1&oh=c62f74ad3eabb909c62b9ea5357f98bb&oe=60404305&ig_cache_key=MjQ5OTQwODAxMzkxMjI1OTIwNQ%3D%3D.2)  
> [suna's but his shirt is buttoned up lmao](https://instagram.fkul16-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t51.2885-15/e35/144140563_200088388489796_8939564305717393661_n.jpg?_nc_ht=instagram.fkul16-1.fna.fbcdn.net&_nc_cat=108&_nc_ohc=WPDsA2Q2h34AX-aN9--&tp=1&oh=2e975e717371fbae14404396ba22a9f1&oe=6040457F&ig_cache_key=MjQ5OTQwODA0Nzk3ODUxOTY4OQ%3D%3D.2)

**Author's Note:**

> writers:
> 
> jean: glamouroki, @uselessentity_ on twitter  
> sam: milkywaykaashi, @zhonglisbroke on twitter  
> come talk to us we don't bite >:D
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated ✾


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